#AND HE WANTS TO SEE YOUR ADORABLE KISS WORTHY FACE ALL SCRUNCHED UP

[fukashiin]

FUKA FUKA MY BELOVED MOOTS

imagine Modern AU Jade is the CEO of his own company and almost all of his employees intimidated and scared of him but still working there, until You visit Jade to his company and Jade being lovey dovey gentleman to u and gives u physical affections while almost all the employees staring at you both in disbelief and confused of what they just witness…..

ngl hottie Jade in suit + CEO Jbsjssjsbsksnsodrb KILL ME I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT ITTT

USERF SHRIMP ANON......USIER SHIRKFP ANAON..........USER SHRIMP ANANON.................YOU NEED TO DEACTIVATE RN............NO AND THEN WHEN YOU WANT TO GK HOME AND MOTHER NATURE HAS SUDDENLY DECIDED TO TAKE A PISS ON THE EARTH SO HE TAKES OFF HIS BLAZER AND EWRAPS ITS AORUNF YOUR FIGURE??????? BRINGING HIM LUNCH THAT HE FORGOT TO PACK (he didnt forget he was just an ASS and liked the image of you hurriedly charging to his office in your home wear)??????? OMG JADE HAVING HIS OWN COMPANY HE GOT TIRED OF AZUL RUNNING HIM RAGGED LMAO

[chaotic-iguana]

HI OMG UR FICS ARE INTOXICATING WTH!!!

Can I please req a Din Djarin where he and the reader are travelling together and reader is bubbly/sunshine personality and then she admits her feelings and Din doesn’t reciprocate at first.. then her personality changes and she’s all sad and he can’t stand it!!!! Cause he does love her and he can’t bare to see her that way!!!

Super angst and fluff please 😭😭😭😭 THANK H IF U DECIDE TO WRITE THIS 🤍🤍

HELLO THANK YOU SO MUCH!! ofc im writing anything u request lysm ur the best plus the prompt is so adorable ahufsdkfjhfs. just to try sumth new, im gonna switch it up and do this one from din’s pov. lmk what you think!!

Enough

Summary: Din rejects reader when she confesses her feelings to him even though he feels the same, only to regret it later.

Pairing: Grumpy! Din x Sunshine! Reader (no use of y/n)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: none, just a lot of angst and fluff

masterlist

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Din Djarin was not a good man. He was aware of this, which is why he was careful not to get to close. Not to taint things with his darkness; the destruction that seemed to shadow him wherever he went. He learned to turn his head away when you sung softly to the child, to clench his fists and keep himself from reaching for you when you giggled at your own terrible (adorable) jokes, to steel himself against your pleas to purchase every single fuzzy fabric you saw, no matter the form. Socks, blankets, shirts, trousers, even a kriffing hat, which Din stopped and let you buy just to stop the stares he was getting from people at the way you were practically jumping in your spot, pointing at the shop’s display. 

But despite his best wishes, Din was not a strong man, either. Not as strong as he needed to be, to resist you. You, with a beaming smile that never failed to make him blush under his helmet; with tender, caring hands that looked so soft that Din wanted to rip his beskar off so you could brush them against him, just once. Your hair, which smelled so sweet that Din could catch traces of it through the beskar. Your eyes, almost siren-like when you blinked up at him while rambling away about something. The way you scrunched your nose with a snort when you couldn’t hold in a laugh. The fact that you had never, ever asked for his name - or an explanation of his helmet, for that matter - even when he knew you hadn’t heard of Mandalorians before. The lilting notes of laughter in your voice before you turned to him with a sly smile, offering him with a witty quip he would have killed others for voicing, before throwing back your head and howling. No, Din was nowhere near strong enough to stand a single damn chance against you. 

He could hear you humming to yourself and the baby while you heated some broth, stopping to lean down and pepper kisses all over Grogu’s face as he cooed happily. Walking into the cockpit, he grunted in acknowledgement of your “Hey, Mando! Sleep well?” before turning to the child and nudging his helmet against his wrinkly forehead. When he turned around to see a gentle smile gracing your face in acknowledgement of the scene in front of you, he straightened up and cocked his helmet as if daring you to comment. 

He was itching for a fight: something, anything to stop the sweet torture of your presence which seemed to breathe life into your surroundings, no matter where you stood. You’d find a way to brighten a graveyard, Cyar’ika. Your smile tightened slightly before you presented him with a bowl of his own, brushing past him to take the child in your arms and leave the cockpit. Every muscle in his body was tense, his mind begging him to let you stay, to apologise for his hostility. To hear you prattle on about something menial while he ate, to revel in the domesticity of being with you. Not like that, of course. You were simply too good for him. Too perfect; too pristine. Your eyes too bright and your heart too soft for him to be worthy of your love. And so Din slipped off his helmet, ducked his head, and ate in silence.

He had noticed that lately, you still spoke to him, but you’d leave with the child more often. He could hear conspiratorial whispers sometimes, the child nodding and babbling his own input as if the two of you were hiding something. You weren’t awkward around him, per se, just less readily giving of your laughter, your jokes, your mindless chatter. All Din knew was that his mind would not rest unless he confronted you, and soon. A restless yearning for your erratic, unnecessarily bright gestures gave way to the anxiety spooling in his gut. Had you finally seen him for what he is?

So later that day, after the supply run when you had fed and put Grogu to sleep, he approached you in the cockpit. He shuffled uneasily behind you, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for you to break the silence. But uncharacteristically, you just continued to stare into hyperspace without a word. When Din cleared his throat, you turned your head his way. But your gaze was flitting around; your hands fiddling nervously in your lap. Why were you apprehensive? 

“Are you…” Din swallowed, unsure of how to phrase his question, “okay?” Are we okay?You looked up at him then, your eyes wide with anxiety, before looking down at your lap again. Could you be…scared? Of me? 

But then you took a deep breath; the nerves fading from your face and giving way to a look of complete resignation, your shoulders slumping with the weight of inevitability. Your gaze met his visor, and he could see that your fingers were lightly curled into fists.

“I don’t really know how to do this, Mando.” Another deep breath. The colour has faded from your face and suddenly you seemed so small, folded in on yourself, that Din had never had to wrestle harder with his own self-control to stop himself from pulling you into his chest and holding you; comforting you, until you’re back to your bouncy self. “You know that I like most people, right?” He nods; you do seem to like and be liked by most people he’s come across, even the ones he would deem unworthy to so much as look at you. 

“I’ve always really enjoyed meeting new people, and making friends. Life is easier when you’ve got people, right?” You’re rambling again, but instead of the usual enthusiasm lacing your tone, crippling worry dripped from your every word. Are you leaving him? 

“I think-I know that I like you more than I like everyone else. Anyone else. I like everything about you more than I’ve ever liked about anyone else and I just…” you trailed off, gulping. “It feels like you and Grogu are my family, already. And I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you might want more than this, like I do. I-fuck it-I’m in love with you, Mando.” And then you’re shying away from him again, biting your lip as you search his visor for a reaction. 

You’re in love with him? This has to be a joke. Din waited for the catch, standing unmovingly in front of you as if waiting for one of your signature punchlines to come tumbling out of your mouth. When it doesn’t, he just gaped at you, his mind overwhelmed with too many thoughts to even say anything. A part of him had never been happier than this moment right here; never loved you more than right now. But the other, more dominant part of him was practically reprimanding him. And what now, idiot? Profess your undying love to her and subject her to a life as the wife of a bounty hunter? No comfortable homes, no proper vacations or even neighbors. A life on the run. With you, dikuit - a man who has never been loved enough to understand how to reciprocate. There is nothing you can give her. There is nothing you can do. 

Din bristled under your gaze, suppressing a wince at the words that came out of his mouth next. “You mean to tell me that you are in love with a man you have never even see the face of? A man who hasn’t even told you his name? Stop lying to yourself. There is no ‘family’. You are the child’s caretaker, and nothing more. It would be best for you not to forget that in the future.” He wanted to slap a hand to his mouth, to bite his tongue - anything, anything not to see the way you wilted in front of him as his words registered. You slumped further in the chair, shoulders curving inwards as you brought your knees to your chest to curl up into a protective position, as if he was hurting you. Frustrated by the fact that he could neither pull you in his arms to comfort you, nor find it in himself to continue spewing bullshit he didn’t mean, Din just turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear the muffled crying echoing through the ship that night. 

——————————————————————————————————

That had been three weeks ago. He’d gone for a hunt right after, returning within the week. What he found back at the ship made a part of him wish he wouldn’t have returned at all. Your eyes sat bloodshot on hollow cheeks, sunken in your face as dark blotches formed under them. You were quiet, even with the concerned child - all the singing, humming goneas if it had never been. Grogu kept gesturing to you when he father looked his way, as if asking what was wrong. Din knew what was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave you alone again, so he’d been mumbling excuses to you each morning as to why he was still on the ship. You’d never answer, just offering him the barest dip of your chin. Din hadn’t just rejected you-he’d been cruel about it. And he hadn’t slept since the night he’d spat those pathetic words at you in an effort of self-preservation, either. The moment kept replaying in his head over and over: your initial nervousness, the words you’d said to him, and your wince at the ones he’d reciprocated with. 

But like he’d admitted: Din Djarin was not a strong man. For you; only for you, he would crumble. To see your usual cheeriness replaced by this emptiness nearly made his knees buckle. You’d stopped eating, too - quietly slipping your food to Grogu, whose concern was overridden by his constant hunger. He’d done this: out of fear of hurting you, he’d reduced you to a mere shadow of what you used to be by doing it anyways. Out of his fear of fucking it up, he’d gone and done that exact thing without even trying to make it work. It was unacceptable to him, to go without hearing your laugh or your jokes or your humming. Not to see you giggling with Grogu. Fix it then, dikuit. So he would. 

Din walked into the cockpit, picked Grogu up from his place on the floor, and whispered a soft apology to him before shutting him in his cot. Grogu, ever-understanding, had just pressed a claw to his helmet and nodded as if wishing him luck. Thanks kid, I’m going to need it. He’d seen your confusion when he had taken Grogu out of the cockpit, but youremained mute. Walking back towards you, Din could feel his chest hurting at the way your hands shook and your eyes glossed over when he got closer. 

“I’m sorry.” His words have no effect; a tilt of your head is the only proof you offer to show that you heard him. Ironic, isn’t it, to be at the receiving end of what I do to others all the time? “For how harsh I was. I didn’t mean it.” Your mouth opens this time, but he raises a hand to stop you. If he doesn’t get this out now, he never will. “I was the one lying to myself, not you. I fell in love with you a long, long time ago, ner’karta. But I was scared-still am-because I have nothing good to give you. Not like what you deserve. My creed alone means that I can’t show you my face until we get married. My job doesn’t allow me stability. I have never been…loved. I do not know how to love you properly. All I know is that it doesn’t feel like a good morning until you say it, that I feel myself flushing under my beskar when you smile at me, that I have to bite my lip to stop a chuckle when you tell me your jokes. All I know is that since you’ve come into my life and made it brighter, it seems I can’t face the darkness alone again. These past two weeks have been hell, cyar’ika. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please forgive me. I will drop you off anywhere you wish to go.” 

And then your face is twisting and you’re sobbing - large, shuddering sobs that alarm Din when they begin. He reaches a tentative hand out towards you slowly, giving you more than enough opportunity to slap it away. When you don’t, he steps closer and pulls you into his chest. As I should have done then. You shake with the force of your hiccups, and Din reaches to rip off his gloves before wrapping his arms around you, a warm hand coming to cradle your head against him. All he can say is a feverish repetition of “I’m sorry, I’m sorrymy love, please forgive me”. 

By the time your tears subside, you can hear sniffs coming from under the helmet too; his modulated voice cracking and giving away his own crying. “Y-you don’t get to-to decide for me. You can’t decide whether or not you can offer enough or whether you can love me properly or not. Just love me, Mando. All you have to do is try.” Your voice is so fragile, so tentative as you speak into his chest that Din’s heart aches at the pain he can hear in it. You continue, “I don’t need stability from you, nor do I need your name or face. To have your heart is enough.” And though you can’t see it, Din has to shut his eyes and brace himself against the weight of his own tears this time. His chest warming, butterflies in his stomach as he tucks you impossible closer.

“Like I said, cyar’ika, you’ve had it for a very long time.” And then you’re smiling again, as Din’s knees threaten to buckle from the force of emotion that wells up at the sight. You’ve pulled back from his chest, but stay close enough to graze his helmet with your nose.

“Is that so, Mando? Do I want to know how long?” You whisper back, somehow looking straight into his eyes despite the visor. 

“Din.” At your frown, he clarifies hesitantly. “My name, cyar’ika. Din Djarin.” You beam brighter, repeating it to yourself. “Wait - cyar’ika? You started calling me that last year, when you were annoyed I bought that fuzzy green hat with frog ear and Grogu tried to eat it on the way home. I thought it was like a swear word, or something -not that I think you would swear at me, you just seemed very annoyed, you know?”

A chuckle slips past his modulator, before he gives in completely. “Close your eyes, please.” When you comply, he rips his helmet off and cups your jaw with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to yours gently, leaning back to look at you. “Beloved, cyare. It means beloved.” Before he can say anything else, your hands tangle in his hair, and suddenly you’re pulling him back into another kiss. And another. And another. 

You two remain so wrapped up in each other that you actually forget to leave the cockpit until Grogu stomps in, having apparently broken out of his cot, and begins babbling at you both angrily, before seeing the smile on your face after so long and hurtling towards you at full speed, nearly tripping on his robes in the process before you catch him in your arms. 

It was true, though. You didn’t need Din to go out of his way to give you anything. This was enough. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore

[katebishopsbow]

SOMEDAY IT WILL ALL BE OKAY • MAX VERSTAPPEN

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader (platonic)

summary: watching kevin and his daughter, laura, playing together at the paddock makes you emotional as you remember the love that you never get to receive growing up. max is here to remind you that your past doesn't define you, and one day you will be okay.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, daddy issues, mentions of absent parent

word count: 3.1k

author's notes: based on the real-life event of me tearing up when i saw that video of kmag's daughter playing with his visor. healing my own daddy issues one fic at a time :)

(image is not mine)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Kevin Magnussen is a great dad.

People can say whatever they want about his driving – aggressive and maybe a little dangerous sometimes – but there is no denying that he is an amazing father who puts his daughters above all else. The Dane is always joking about how his two little troublemakers have been giving him a constant headache, but the rest of the grid knows that he would do just about anything for his girls.

Occasionally, Louise likes bringing Laura and Agnes to the track to see their dad at work. Being a Formula 1 driver with all the hectic schedules and non-stop traveling means that family time together can often be difficult to come by, so Kevin cherishes all the time he gets to be as present in their lives as possible. 

The drivers all love it when the Magnussens visit the track, not only because Laura and Agnes are the sweetest little angels ever, but also because they get to witness the rare sight of Kevin “tough guy” Magnussen shedding his hard exterior and tease him about the heartwarmingly softer side he displays to his family. 

And while you would never admit this out loud, somewhere residing deep within you is envious – envious of this kind of love that you never got to receive. Sometimes when you look at Kevin interacting with his daughters – just sometimes – you find yourself wondering what it would be like to have a father who is present, who genuinely cares, who loves you with everything they have so much that you never have to doubt your worthiness.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You were standing with a few other drivers at the track, idly chatting about the upcoming race and your holiday plans now that the winter break is right around the corner when Kevin suddenly saunters nearby, holding the hand of the most adorable little girl. “Laura, come say hi!” he kneels down and says to her, sporting the biggest and most loving smile on his face as his daughter gives a shy little wave to the crowd of drivers before her.

“Hey there, Laura,” you wave at her, settling on a simple greeting since you have never been particularly great with children. “Hello, little one!” Lando greets with a wide grin as he offers Laura a fist bump, and the girl explodes into giggles when he pretends to yelp in pain at how hard Laura fist-bumped him. Classic Lando – always so good with kids.

“She’s got quite the punch, doesn’t she?” Kevin jokes while he chuckles at the sight, admiring the joyous smile on Laura’s face with the tenderest gaze he only reserves for his daughter. Becoming a father is the best thing that has happened to him, and he thanks the stars every day for being blessed with such precious gifts of life. Laura and Agnes – his biggest pride and joy.

“Here to be dad’s little assistant, Laura?” Max asks, his nose scrunching up in an adoring smile like the way it always does when he speaks to Penelope. The little girl nods bashfully before running to hide behind her dad, holding onto his hands as if he is her safe place, her rock.

Kevin laughs at his daughter’s endearing shyness, picks her up and envelops her in his embrace before placing a kiss on her rosy, chubby cheeks. “You’re the best assistant in the entire world,” he whispers softly, adoration swimming in his eyes while Laura lets out a giggle at her father’s words. The drivers around them cannot help but smile along with them – how can they not at such a heartwarming sight? 

Yet watching Kevin’s doting smiles and the way he looks at his daughter as if she is his entire universe, the initial warm fuzziness within you silently morphs into a dull ache that squeezes at your heart – an odd yet familiar feeling you know all too well. Despite your best efforts to push them away, your mind becomes clouded with hazy memories of the past – the painful past that has broken you and haunted you for years.

In the fogged-up memories of your childhood days, you were never at the receiving end of such an affectionate gaze. The only way your father has ever looked at you was indifference, annoyance, and a sense of uncaringness that tore your little heart up into pieces and left you wondering what you did wrong to be so undeserving of the fatherly love you yearned for. 

He never picked you up and hugged you as if you were a fragile treasure that he cherished. He never held your hand in a way that made you feel safe and certain that nothing could ever harm you because he would be your shield, protecting you from the world and its merciless cruelty. He never once made you feel loved and cared for, ignoring your attempts to gain his validation and approval because he loved himself and his ego more than he would ever love you. 

When you received good grades at school and showed him your report card with the rows of A’s, hoping that it would help you get his approval, he didn’t praise you. In fact, he didn’t bother saying anything. He simply gave you a half-hearted nod before shifting his attention back to the damned television screen in front of him, some uninteresting TV show that never should have mattered more than his daughter. So you stuffed the tear-stained report card back into your school bag, uncaring that it got crushed and crumpled, because in the end your hard work and effort didn’t matter. It never did.

When you had a rough day at school and came home with tears running down your cheeks, your father looked at you for a second, rolled his eyes and walked away. So that night you cried yourself to sleep as you soaked through your pillows with your wallowing tears, wishing that your dad could wrap you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay. You knew that he could hear your sobs across the hallway, but chose to ignore you anyway. You wondered if he hated you that much, or was it simply because he never even cared to begin with?

And when he finally gathered all his belongings and disappeared from your life once and for all, you surprised yourself when you didn’t cry at the sight of the now-empty house. You had just felt empty and lonely – so painstakingly lonely. The kind of loneliness that seeped into your bones and slithered along your veins and consumed your soul. 

As you grew older, you became familiarized with that emptiness – comfortable with it even. You begin to find yourself pushing people away when they get too close, keeping most at arm's length because that seems like the safest option, breaking your own heart before others can do it because you never want to experience the same heartbreak your father has put you through.

Despite how painful it is, you hold onto that loneliness like a lifeline because how could you not when that’s the only thing you know? How could you love when you don’t even know what it feels like?

Even though it had been years since your dad had left, the emptiness he had left behind never seemed to fade away. They say time heals all wounds, but you call that bullshit, because then why does it still hurt like a fresh stab into the heart? 

Too deep in your storm of thoughts, you don’t realize the tears brimming in your glossy eyes and the way your lips quiver ever so slightly. “Hey… you okay there?” Charles, who is standing beside you, gives you an affectionate pat on the shoulders and whispers hushedly in your ear, worried at your sudden change in demeanor. Quickly nodding your head, you answer him with the best smile you can manage, “Yeah, just remembering some things.”

While most of the drivers still have their focus on Kevin and Laura, a few have also noticed your red-rimmed eyes and quietness. “What’s wrong?” Lando mouths the question silently toward you, eyes wide in concern as he tries not to shift everybody’s attention toward you. You shake your head and mouth “nothing” in reply to him as discreetly as possible, not wanting to ruin the group’s mood with your sudden sentiments. 

As much as you want to stay, you simply need to get away for a moment to recollect your thoughts. “Uh – There’s something I need from my driver’s room, so I’m gonna head off,” you hurriedly blink away the tears and put on the best smile – a skill you learned to master after years of being in the public’s eye. You hope that the excuse you just blurted out is somewhat believable, and you quickly disappear into the distance after your fellow drivers bid you goodbye. 

While making a beeline for your driver's room, you cannot help but feel so embarrassed, so guilty for the sudden burst of emotions that erupted in your chest moments ago. “What is wrong with me?” you mumble hushedly to yourself as you make your way to the garage – irritated and beyond annoyed at yourself that the mere sight of Kevin with his daughter is enough to bring you to tears. 

This isn’t something new to you. It isn’t the first time a good father-daughter relationship has made you tear up. Movies, TV shows, song lyrics – you always get so emotional when you allow yourself to get lost in your thoughts, thinking too deeply about the painful reminders of the love that you never have. 

It makes you feel stupid, because how broken do you have to be that trivial things like these are enough to make you cry? And it makes you feel scared, so utterly scared, because what if you were too broken to ever be capable of loving someone this much, too damaged to ever receive love despite yearning for it, and end up pushing away everyone who cares about you for the rest of your life.

When you arrive at your driver's room, you take a seat in the corner, breathing in and out while the self-blaming thoughts inside your head spiral in full force. This is so stupid, you are being stupid, and you hate yourself for being a fool and letting your past trauma affect you like this. Why were you even crying? There is nothing to be crying for. Stop. You need to stop.

Then you hear someone calling your name, voice faint and soft behind the door – Max. “You feeling okay?” he asks, and your delayed response and trembling voice as you answer him, “I’m fine.” are a clear enough indicator that you are far from okay. “Alright, I’m gonna come in now.” A sigh of mixed emotions falls from your lips – annoyance that you never seem to be able to lie to the man, and gratefulness that he always understands what you really need, and right now it is the company of your best friend.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says to you, eyebrows ceasing in sadness when he notices the expression on your face. Max hates seeing you like this, especially knowing the reason behind your tears is your absent father – someone who will never be worthy of having you cry over him. 

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your race suit, guilt weighing heavily on your chest as you apologize, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to ruin the mood back there. Did the other drivers notice?” Max shakes his head with a frown, refusing to let you blame yourself for something you should never feel guilty for. “You don’t have to be sorry, you did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t even know why I am crying, honestly. Why am I still so angry and sad after all these years? It’s like… am I always going to be like this, broken? Will the hurt ever go away?” you explain truthfully to him while trying to piece your muddle-up thoughts together, yet you struggle to put them into words. How can you begin to explain the years of trauma your dad has left behind? How can you describe the mess of emotions you have for him – the hatred, the resentment, and the fact that you still love and miss him so much even after everything he has done to you?

You don’t need to, because Max understands, he always does. One of the reasons why you two became close quickly is because you share a similar, troubled past – something that is rather unfortunate to bond over, you would argue, but it brings you a great friend nonetheless. Max’s father isn’t exactly absent like yours – Jos Verstappen is still quite prominent in his life, along with his abusive and manipulative ways of raising his kids which he would vehemently deny and claims to be “tough love” instead.

Even though he is there, it doesn’t change the painful truth that the presence of his father has ruined Max. For years, he thought being violent was the way to solve problems because his dad always seemed to be able to solve his with his fist. He used to believe that you had to be perfect to be deserving of good things in life because he grew up with the punishment of “no dinner” if he had performed poorly in a race. He didn’t know if he would ever be capable of loving someone, and then he met Kelly and Penelope.

“You know… when I first met Penelope, I was terrified. I was scared that I could never be a good enough father figure for her, that I was too ruined to show her the love she deserved to have. But then I saw her, and then I realized I love her more than anything,” he confesses as he places himself to sit beside you, a reminiscent smile dancing on his lips while he remembers his first time meeting Penelope, the little girl who has become his family.

He remembers the suffocating fear of ending up like his father when he first held the hands of little Penelope, mind plagued with all the horrible what-ifs. What if he was a terrible dad? What if he couldn’t ever love Penelope? What if he was just like Jos Verstappen and ended up destroying her childhood with his anger and temper the way his dad had with his?

Then Penelope gave him a sweet smile, her tiny hand holding onto his pinky as she looked into his eyes with such trust and comfort, as if she knew that Max would love her more than anything in the world. Max genuinely thought he was going to cry, his heart surging with an overwhelming amount of love and determination to protect the little girl in front of her and give her the home she and Kelly deserve to have, and that’s when he knew that he had nothing to be afraid of – that he was going to do better than his father.

“Listen, kiddo. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, it just makes the pain bearable. But there will be a day when your wound will still be there – it always will be there – but the pain and the hatred will no longer consume you. And you will realize that you can be better and stronger than your past, that you can break the cycle, that you are deserving of such unconditional love too.” You listen quietly to your best friend’s answer, exhaling a relieved sigh at the words you so desperately need to hear, giving you hope that despite all your trauma, one day you will be able to love with such certainty as well.

You are never too broken to love or be loved. You are not damaged goods that need repairing. You are not a monster for being intimidated by love and affection, for pushing people away even though you want more than anything for them to stay. You just need to allow yourself to heal from the hurtful past, to understand that your past trauma does not define you. You need to allow yourself to feel, to accept the depths of your emotions, to understand that your sadness and anger are always valid. You need to believe that you will be better than your father, that you will not follow in his footsteps, and that you deserve to be loved just as much as anyone else. 

Feeling sentimental over this doesn’t make you stupid or a fool, it just makes you human. It is okay to cry over it, to be sad over it, as long as you remember that one day – while things will never be perfect –  it will certainly get better. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Max tells you with a smile, reaching for your hand to give it a comforting squeeze, and you believe him. For once in a very long time, you genuinely believe that everything is going to be okay. The impact your father has on you will always be there. You can never wipe away the hurt and awful things he has done to you, nor can you simply erase the simultaneous love and hatred you hold for him, but one day you will learn to move on and find closure, and you are going to be okay, just like Max said.

There is a knock on the door, and you can hear your name being called again, this time in the soft and squeaky voice of a little girl. “I’m here,” you answer, and peeking behind the gap in the door is Laura with a cheeky grin on her face. Kevin leads her inside your driver's room with an apologetic smile, “Hey, sorry… Laura says she wants to play with you and insists that I bring her here.” 

You watch as Laura crawls up into the seat next to you and Max, looking at you with the brightest toothy little grin ever, and your lips begin pulling up into a huge smile as well. “Is it okay if she plays here for a while? I’ve got a team meeting in 5 and she never likes coming to those…” Kevin asks apologetically before relief floods his expression when you answer him, “It would be lovely to have a little playdate with Laura.”

“Alrighty, see you later little one,” Kevin leans down to place a kiss on his daughter’s head, reminding her to be a good kid when he is away for the meeting, and you smile at the sight. Not an envious one, or a reminiscent one, but one of contentment because you know that one day you will be able to receive and give such unconditional love to someone too.

Someday, it will be okay. You will be okay.

[hsgucci94]

Office hours

Summary: Harry Styles is your part-time boss and full-time boyfriend, which makes office hours interesting.

Word count: +2k

Content warning: fluff and sexual content and more fluff (m receiver)

masterlist

"I need these tasks by the end of the day, you think you could do that? They are urgent.” Your boss, Mr. Styles, asked you, standing against the doorframe of your office. You momentarily looked up to see the small pile of files in his hand, right before looking down at your computer screen and nodding with compliance.

"Sure. I'll start once I'm done with this."

"Good, thank you.” He flashed you a funny smile.

He found the sight in front of him quite endearing. You were so focused on whatever it was on the other side of your computer screen that your nose scrunched and the glasses that rested on top of it looked like they would slip off anytime soon. Although you were in no hurry to put them back up again.

Harry used your lack of attention to his advantage and proceeded to look behind him and around the corridor before entering your office and closing the door behind him. He left the files on one corner of your desk and walked over to your side. His hand stretched enough to grab the armrest of your chair and pull you to him, his body flexed forward so that your faces were at the same height. He had now fully entered your field of vision and the playful smirk on his lips told you he was up to no good.

"I'm working...,” you mumbled.

He chuckled, "So? It's not like l've never stolen a kiss from you at work."

You shook your head, smiling, and indicated for him to move forward.

He definitely did not make that cheeky move for just a kiss, but he was getting just that until your working hours were done.

There was no way you were risking it.

He might be your boss and so your chances of getting fire for something like that were void, but your reputation was just as important. And no woman who hooked up with her boss gave off any good impressions in the business world.

Harry did as indicated and closed the space between you two. He pressed his mouth to yours in a sweet and slow kiss that made you all giggly. Nothing quite like the touch of his lips to forget about all the excels and transactions that still required your attention. In that precise instant you wished you could give it all of it to him. Push your work aside and give all your attention to him.

When he pulled away, he had a big smile on, one of those that showed his adorable dimples, which were enough for you to want to keep on kissing him until your lips became red and sore. But you were at work, and anyone could come in at any moment and find out about you two.

That would be a disaster.

Ever since you started dating some months back, almost a year now, you knew your relationship had to be hidden or your position at the company would be compromised. Not because relationships between colleagues were forbidden, but because you had to maintain a standing that was worthy of respect, and if people knew you were involved with your boss in any kind of way, it'd be very difficult for you to do so. Harry understood that, and so he made sure to make things easy for you at work most of the time. Today being an exception, apparently.

"Let me know when you're finished. I'll be in my office waiting to drive you home," he spoke, and kissed you on your cheek before walking out of the room.

Funny how he expected you to get back to work and concentrate as if nothing after an interruption like that.

By 9:30 p.m. you were finally done. All your tasks for the day were completed, so you grabbed your purse and the folder where you always saved important files, and made your way to Harry's office.

The entire floor was empty. You two were the only ones remaining there, which was the main reason why his door was fully open.

You were about to knock on one side just to inform him you were ready to go, but stopped mid-way.

His face had that one frown he did whenever he was on his peek of concentration. The first two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned; the knot of his tie undone, meaning he had been a bit under pressure for the past couple of hours.

You stayed there a few seconds, quietly taking in the image in front of you, until he noticed your stare. He smiled before lifting his face to look at you. "All done?"

"All done," you nodded and walked towards the couple of chairs that were in front of his desk.

You left your purse and the files he had previously asked you for on his table. However, instead of taking a seat, you played your uno reverse card and walked behind him. When his back was to your chest you dug your fingers on his shoulders strategically to help him release the tension you knew he was feeling. He closed his eyes almost right away, finally relaxing after a long exhausting working day.

You had barely seen each other except for when he stopped by your office, not even to grab lunch or a coffee together, but you two preferred it that way to not arose suspicion.

"I've missed you.” You passed your arms around his shoulders and placed a suggestive kiss to his cheek.

"You have?" he murmured a bit distracted, finishing typing a few things on his computer. However, no matter how busy or caught up he was in his work, he could always tell your needs and intentions. He then put the screen down and turned his body around on his swivel chair so that he could face you.

You nodded, and proceeded to sit on his lap, your legs hanging on one side of his waist. You passed an arm around his shoulders, holding yourself to him, and took the chance to play with the curls on his nape.

The palms of his hands rested on your lower back and the outside of your thigh, pulling you to him, and it didn't take you long to kiss him, this time allowing your tongues to take part. The time of the day where you two reunited and shared your company had arrived, and neither of you liked to waste any second on getting as close as possible.

So you didn't.

Your fingers buried in the back of his hair, slowly pulling at it, and when a small moan escaped from his lips you realised you got the desired effect. You moved from his lips to his neck, dragging your mouth down his exposed skin, causing him goosebumps.

"Love...," Harry warned, as you felt him getting hard under you.

"Shh," you replied, kissing him on the mouth again, this time with even more desire.

Your hands soon traveled down his shirt and cautiously rubbed his crotch, causing another moan to scape from his parted lips.

You started unbuttoning his shirt from bottom to top, until he was completely shirtless in front of you, a few of his tattoos showing off for your eyes only.

He gulped, and then grabbed you by your elbow, stopping you. By the way he was looking at you, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks blushed and his mouth slightly opened, you knew he was feeling needy.

"No games, Y/N" he mumbled in a pleading tone, meaning he wanted you to keep going only if you were willing to go all the way till the end. He was in pain, and as much as he liked when you teased him, he physically couldn't get up and leave his office just like that, not after the boner you had caused him.

"I know, baby. I'll take care of it," you assured him, and started leaving kisses on his chest and all the way down to his waist, where you unbuttoned his suit pants. He slightly lifted his hips so that you were able to pull down both his pants and boxers in one go, which ended up at his feet. His pretty thighs were uncovered in front of you and, like every time you had seen them naked, you had the urge to kiss them. They looked so strong but soft at the same time...

"Love, please" Harry begged you, needing you down there as soon as possible.

"I'm going... I'm going, baby. Let me just enjoy your thighs a bit first," you replied, giggling. He silently nodded and closed his eyes to concentrate on the feeling of your lips against his skin rather than his aching erection.

You left small wet kisses all over them, your lips softly touching his skin, while he held his breath with every touch. He liked it a lot whenever you did that, it always turned him on, but his crotch needed you so bad right there and then that he was not being able to enjoy it as much.

Noticing his desperation, you soon replaced your lips with your hands and positioned yourself between his thighs, right before looking at Harry and giving him a quick glance, letting him know you were going in. He nodded, closing his eyes and tensing a bit until he felt your lips around him. You sucked on his sensitive skin while his eyes remained closed, his hands tightly grabbing the armrests to his sides, small moans coming out of his pink lips whenever he was not biting at them. If he continued to do so he would make himself bleed.

He was not very into talking or praising while doing intimate stuff, but his body language made sure to speak on his behalf. You were always able to figure out how he was feeling, if you needed to speed it up or slow it down, just by the way the muscles on his body tensed and his chest and hips raised.

The moment you felt his thighs trembling and his abdomen contracting, you knew he was ready to come. You gave a squeeze to his knee as an indicator for him to release, and soon enough your mouth was filled with his liquid.

"Fuck," he cursed, tilting his head back and fully resting it against the back of his chair. You gulped down the remains of him. An overwhelmed smile slowly made its way to his lips. "Fuck, baby. That mouth really does wonders." You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words of fascination. "Don’t laugh, it’s true. C'mere."

"Don't know if wonders is the word, but this mouth can definitely get you off."

"You wanna know what else it should do right now?" You rose both eyebrows, wanting him to continue. "Kiss me."

You shot him a giddy smile.

You quickly helped him get cleaned up and dressed again, and then he grabbed you by your waist and sat you astraddle on his lap, where he pressed your mouths together as soon as your faces were close to one another.

You stayed there, your arms around his shoulders while his where around your back once again; your face hidden in the crook of his neck as he kissed your hair every now and then, until it got pretty late and it was time for you both to go home.

You started making your way to the exit, leaving his office behind as you walked down the hallway.

"Come sleep at mine?" Harry softly asked you. His strong hand held yours, while the other grabbed his briefcase. You turned to see him. "I wanna be able to hold you all night," he continued, and graciously pulled at your arm to bring you to him so he could mischievously whisper in your ear: "Maybe even return the favour and make you come tonight."

"Mm-hm," you nodded, stupidly smiling against his neck as you accepted the invitation.

Please, like & share if you liked it? it’ll help so much 🥺✨ thanks!! x

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[kpopjust4u]

Kinkmas - Day 17: Fingering W/ Youjin

Post Date: 17th December 2022 Content: Smut - KNK Youjin x Reader WC: 1.2K TW?: Fingering/ Dom!Youjin/ Brat!Reader

Summary: Naughty or Nice? Youjin makes that decision of you for himself, as his fingers do all the magic.

Masterlist               Kinkmas Masterlist                     Prompt list

Oh, how much he wanted to treat you for your behaviour but he just can’t, you’ve been behaving so badly. If he was Santa, you’d definitely be on the naughty list. 

But. 

He’s willing to give you a chance to prove yourself worthy of a treat, seeing how long you’ll last without trying to be a brat on him. He wasn’t counting on very long but anything longer than a day would be more progress than anything.

He’s planned 12 days of Christmas gift ideas for you, really wanting to treat you this year since he adores you so much but you’ve definitely been pushing his buttons. One moment you’re a little angel, being sweet and adoring, then you’re giving him whiplash by turning into a right brat, trying to get your way in the worst way possible.

“Are you going to behave?” He cocks an eyebrow up at you as your grin up at him from your phone, nodding but in reality, you’re already plotting a way to annoy him next. 

“Promise?” Pointing his pinky finger at you, you just laugh, going back to scrolling on your phone as you eye it up, contemplating whether or not you’re actually going to try and behave. 

Knowing yourself, you knew it would be broken in an instant if you did promise, so you chose to play it safe, not making it bound. 

His hand slaps against his thigh when he drops it, scoffing at you whilst trying to stifle a laugh himself. You are adorable, he can’t deny it. He loves you with every ounce of his being, even when you’re being a brat but you just test him, all the time. 

Though he has to admit, it makes things extremely interesting for the both of you, like a little game but you’ve noticed that he’s becoming too used to your behaviour and is managing to ignore it at the best of times. 

“Right, you behave, you’re allowed to have that gift I was telling you about,” He softly speaks, taking your legs to drape them over his lap, getting extremely close to you before going on his phone himself. 

Nodding in reply, you smile at him, scrunching your nose cutely. He reaches over to place a soft kiss on it before going back to his phone. 

And now, it was time for you to play murder. 

As much as you wanted to see what the gift was, you just can’t help yourself. You can’t help but poke his cheek, which he dismisses. You can’t help but pinch his arm, and he does the same for that too. You can’t help but bite your lip as you lean in against him, moving your legs off his lap as your hand brushes over his crotch, instantly going back onto your phone to act like you weren’t doing anything. Nothing at all.

At first, he’s dismissing all of this, until you start to repeat it, biting his earlobe as you whimper playfully into it, hand back on his crotch and then pulling it away with speed. 

“Will you stop teasing me?” He hisses, side-eyeing you, not looking too impressed in the slightest. Though the bulge that starts to grow in the restriction of his trousers shows differently from what his face says.

Another brush on the crotch. 

“I’m not doing anything~” You sing playfully, licking your lips as you go to move away from him but he traps you, body over yours on the couch as he lays you down, not giving you any room to move.

“You’re not behaving, I guess it’s my turn to tease now, you brat”.

Excitement makes you squirm underneath him, grinning as you welcome the switch in his personality. His eyes pierce yours as he presses his lips on yours, not even going to give you the chance for light and soft kisses. Oh no, he’s hungry to get you all worked up, in hopes you’d expect him to eventually be nice to you. 

“You’ve been so naughty, you’re definitely on my naughty list,” He nips at your lip, then your jawline, making his way down to your neck, making you gasp and lightly whimper at the feeling of his lips on your sensitive skin. 

Whilst he’s kissing your neck, his hands work magic by swiftly removing your shorts, and underwear to join them on the floor, leaving you bottom half naked, giving him perfect access for his fingers to easily glide through your slickened folds. 

Widening your legs with a gasp that follows the second his fingers graze over your sensitive bud, looking at him with lustful eyes, his the same but darker, annoyed with you but he can’t wait to have his fun to punish you for being so naughty. 

At first, he’s going to let you enjoy it, his thumb drawing circles on your clit as you’re whimpering underneath him, nails digging into his shoulders. He’s peppering you with heated kisses as you try and chase his lips after each time he pulls away. 

The way he’s changing the pace of the circling on your clit has you gasping for more, his two fingers playing at your entrance as you’re almost begging for it, mouth agape as you want to get the words out but you just can’t. 

“Oh, now you’re quiet,” He quips, smirking as the corners of your mouth start to curl up, fighting with your body to get at least a word or two out.

All you could manage was, “Bite me,” making him jerk his head to the side in a quick response as his smirk grows bigger, pushing the two fingers into your hole, stretching you out quite a bit as you yelp at the slight stinging sensation.

The least he could do was to let you adjust to his fingers being inside of you as your breathing starts to normalise, slightly. His thumb is still teasing your clit as you slowly adjust, fingers getting tangled in his hair as you pull him in for another heated make-out session. 

Only then does he slowly move his fingers in and out of you, curling them up against your g-spot, making your back arch so much it could break. The way you’re crying on his lips gives him such an ego boost.

The way his fingers curl inside you with a come hither motion, accompanied by his thumb abusing your clit, you were sure you were going to break any moment, but the second he senses that he pulls his fingers out, placing them over your heat as you cry in distaste to his action. Just as he wanted to. 

“Why should I let a brat cum, huh?” He bites in a low voice, lips curling at the edges as you whimper, begging for him to go back to doing it, “Will you behave if I let you cum?”.

Almost immediately you’re nodding, the beginning continues as you try to thrust against his hand but he pulls away. Waving a slickened finger at you for you to behave. 

But something in him caves into your begging, his fingers right against you as he eases them in, happy with the gasp that you let out as his thumb goes straight back to your clit, abusing it just like before.

“Keep behaving and I’ll think about letting you cum,” he breathes against your lips as you nod, accepting his lips on yours as you cry on them, doing just as he says so you can cum this time. 

~

Tags: @scuzmunkie, @ateezreactionsandscenarios, @trashlord-007, @fanfictrashlord-007

[purple-babygirl]

All I'm gonna say is Bucky's little being obsessed with feeding Bucky from their plate

Pairing: Daddy!Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word Count: 1,385

Warnings: ddlg dynamics, other than that it's just fluff.

A/N: that was so cute it totally stole my heart🥺💜 thank you so much for sharing such a soft thought with me I hope I did it justice?:"💜💜you know I be meaning for these to be short, like blurbs, but I just-

please enjoy xx.

dada, open up

Bucky took care of his girl. He’d play with her, read to her, bathe her, do her hair, love on her and even feed her. He enjoyed spoiling her. Bucky loved that she trusted him enough to completely let go so he could look after her and that was exactly what he did.

“Dada,” she called to him before he could react.

She was quiet as they sat at the dinner table, but Bucky didn’t think much of it. Her mouth was busy after all.

Bucky was scooping rice on her spoon when he saw her hand slide a piece of broccoli out of her plate. He was about to scold her about table manners and what cutlery were for and that she needed to wait for him to feed her—

Bucky looked to her, expecting her to say she was full or that she didn’t want to eat this specific piece of broccoli. She almost always did this when they came to the last bit of food on her plate. But Bucky was surprised to see his girl offering him the piece of broccoli she held, her hand raised up so the sautéed vegetable was almost touching his lips.

“That’s your food, honey. Daddy has his too, see?” He told her, tilting his plate so she could see he still had food to be consumed, trying to lift the spoon to her lips to feed her.

“Dada,” she repeated, pouting when Bucky left her hand in the air too long.

“Alright, but just this one. You’re gonna eat the rest of your dinner yourself like a good girl, okay?”

She nodded with a smile, stretching her arm more so it reached Bucky’s lips. He opened his mouth and took the food in, chewing.

“Thank you, sweets,” Bucky said before kissing her fingers.

She blushed adorably, retracting her hand and going back to munching her food with a satisfied smile.

“Now open wide for the rice plane.”

~

She did it again the next day; this time when they were having lunch.

“Dada, nuggie,” she said, pushing her hand forward to him.

“Yes, sweets, what’s wrong with your nuggie?” Bucky looked at the golden piece of chicken she held out. It seemed normal to him.

“Nothin’, wanna share it with Daddy,” she told him, shrugging cutely.

He couldn’t help but want to kiss all over her sweet, little face. But she had to finish her meals and eat properly.

“Honey—”

“Dada.” She gave him her puppy eyes; she knew he couldn’t say no to those eyes.

Bucky silently opened his mouth, biting back a smile as he chewed the fried chicken. He needed to be firm, but he still kissed her greasy fingers just to see her blush and take them back.

“You like it?” She checked, wanting to make sure he was enjoying the food as much as she was.

“Mhhm,” Bucky hummed, his eyebrow raised as he tried to figure her out, waiting for the minute she’s going to ask him to finish the plate for her because she was done.

“Dada, baby carrot for you.” She proposed food from her plate again.

“Sweets, you gotta eat your dinner.”

“Baby carrot,” she repeated after nodding at his statement.

Bucky accepted the orange veggie, kissing her hand again before he watched her continue to sit obediently and eat all that was left on her plate with no fuss.

~

At first, Bucky thought she was passing him the food she didn’t like or couldn’t finish under the cover of ‘sharing’, but she always ended up finishing her food, so that was confusing.

Then she started feeding him food that she actually liked too.

“Dada,” came her call again, her hand pressing a red grape from her snack plate to Bucky’s lips.

“Sweets, daddy cut those up for you.” Bucky’s heart swelled at the gesture, but he couldn’t just keep eating her food.

Bucky sighed, shaking his head.

She thought he didn’t want a grape so she dropped it back and held out a piece of apple instead.

“Do you not like the food daddy makes anymore? Is there something else you’d rather eat?”

“No.” She shook her head, putting the apple back among the other fruits.

“Then what is it, honey? Why don’t you wanna eat your food?” Bucky tilted his head, putting her hair behind her ear.

“I wanna eat my food, jus’ wan’ daddy to eat with me too,” she mumbled shyly, her voice small and her finger pushing the fruits around the small bowl in her hands.

“Oh, honey,” Bucky whispered in realization, his heart fluttering at his girl’s care and thoughtfulness before he took her on his lap.

“Wanna share with you because I love you, daddy,” she continued, still staring at her hands, having no idea she was making the man’s heart melt inside his chest.

She loved him. She thought he was special and she wanted to feed him out of her own plate with her own hand like he would her. She wanted to look after him too. It was so wholesome and it made Bucky feel warm and worthy.

Bucky’s thumb touched her cheek, making her look at him.

“Daddy loves you too, sweets. Daddy loves you very much.” He kissed her forehead and temple, big hand caressing her back before he pressed her to his chest in a warm hug, her head tucked under his chin. “You’re the best baby ever, you know that?”

Bucky couldn’t believe how lucky he was even with his whole world between his arms; right on his lap.

“Red grape?” She suggested when they pulled away and she could try again, her happy smile back on her face.

“Red grape.” Bucky nodded with a chuckle, his tongue taking the fruit between his lips.

“Ew,” she giggled, wiping the saliva from Bucky’s tongue on his shirt.

“Did I just hear you say ew, sweets?” Bucky laughed, taking the fruit bowl and putting it away.

He quickly flipped her down on the couch and started running his long fingers up and down her sides, making her laugh and squirm.

“Did you? Hmm?” He kept asking, knowing too well she couldn’t answer him between her loud giggles.

“Dada!” She squealed, trying to wiggle away from his evil fingers tickling her sides.

“You don’t like if daddy’s saliva gets on you?” Bucky teased, licking up her cheek and she laughed louder, her knees bending in a failed attempt to shield her sides.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She screamed out, still giggling and panting.

“Thank you for sharing your food with me, sweets.” Bucky kissed her chin.

Bucky had mercy on her after a minute, letting her breathe as she continued to smile up at him. He wiped her cheek with the sleeve of his Henley, placing a kiss where he licked her before pumping his nose with hers.

She giggled, scrunching her nose up. Bucky’s hands were settled on her sides, holding her gently as his thumbs rubbed her tummy. She sighed when her chest stopped its heavy rising and falling, gazing at Bucky with all the love she had in her.

Her palm cupped his cheek and Bucky turned his head to kiss her fingers. Then he leaned forward, knowing what she wanted. When he was closer, she held onto his shoulders and lifted her head up to press a sweet kiss to his cheek as well.

From that day on, it was the rule that she would feed Bucky from her plate; it didn't matter where they were or who was around them. Sam could call Bucky whipped all he wanted, he would open up too if he had a girl like her feeding him out of her plate.

She would share anything that was put on her plate with her Daddy: the popcorn on movie nights, the extra blueberries she always asked for with her pancakes, the pepperoni on her pizza, the last curly fry on her plate, and mandarin slices whenever Bucky would peel one for her. And so he started putting extra of everything on her plate to make sure she still got to eat the healthy amount she was meant to eat. Everything was balanced again. Everything was perfect and Bucky wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

[alatusxiaoo]

love like you

synopsis: it’s without question that you’re in love with him, but how worthy does your partner deem himself of receiving it?

character/s: childe, xiao

note: hello!! this will just be a short one before the 300 followers milestone special <33

CHILDE

well, of course he thinks he’s worthy of it! just feast your eyes upon the inconceivable magnitude of his ego, it’s clearly impossible to falter his own faith in himself.

after all, childe was practically the most ideal example of a perfect boyfriend - undeniably attractive, filthy rich, terrifying intelligent and powerful in over a million ways…what more could any other woman want from him?

but you didn’t love him for all those materialistic features - rather you instead adored childe’s benevolence with the welfare of his family, cherished the rough yet chivalrous sensation of his teasing kisses, loved the sliver of innocence breathing in his bones despite tainting himself with blood over and over again.

and he thinks you’re foolish to be enamored by him for silly and simple reasons…after all you didn’t need to feel ashamed if you confessed that you wanted him for something else - it was only understandable to desire the fatui harbinger like so, as childe was a man of very many things. again, very egoistic.

if you asked him in return on what he loved about you, he would smile and say that he particularly found your rowdy and uproarious laughter the most endearing. “your opinion, i suppose.” you would retort to the unexpected comment with a frown and creased eyebrows.

he would look up towards the dotted stars in the sky, and admit that he loved the way you looked beneath the filmy sheets in dawn-soaked mornings - your hair wild and untamed, your little button of a nose turned up with a dreamy smile on your half-parted lips, and the slight stream of drool marked across your cheek as evidence of a comfortable rest. “that’s just disgusting.” you would remark once more, features scrunched up in utter disbelief.

“see, that’s how i felt upon knowing the things you loved about me.” childe snorts in amusement, while running his calloused fingers through your locks of hair as you lean on his chest.

“i hate you.” he recalled hearing you mutter beneath your breath, while your fingers absentmindedly traced his pale cheek with intimacy.

“you know you love me.” he would reply with a fond smile, secretly admiring the giddy and beautiful smile plastered on your face at his affectionate words.

but it only was after childe had finally lost his own sanity along the treacherous path of serving his archon, and succumbed to the overwhelming guilt of his heinous crimes - when he eventually admitted to himself the bitter phrase, “i hate myself.”,

that you stood above his lonely gravestone and whispered with tears in your eyes, “you know i love you.”

XIAO

we’re all pretty much aware of his curt yet selfless behavior towards mortals.

therefore it’s only natural he thinks he can never be worthy of such pure and forbidden emotions like yours.

xiao will admit that he’s traitorously allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have anything and everything the world had to offer, but as soon as you stepped into the picture - nothing was deemed worthy of having anymore unless it was you.

but he’s almost certain you’d easily crumble with a fragile shatter before he was capable of loving you - that is why he never dares to desire or dream of holding you in his hands, even if it was merely your fleeting shadow.

and yet, you’re still so persistent - so generous in allowing him to fall without restraint, too kind to accept his ugly flaws and the blood he’s spilled all across the ground for countless centuries, and it feels like he’s crossing a prohibited border when he wishes that his life had just been a simple and temporary journey shared with you.

as he stares at your unconscious frame and the little smile painted on your lips from a lovely dream, the weed of insecurity in his dirty heart tells him that this is the only way to do it…the only way to help you realize that the love you deserved wasn’t one he himself was capable of offering.

so he disappears one night - and curses himself for always coming back to watch you wake up alone and drowning in tears, a consistent and heartbreaking routine for the ensuing mornings to come.

xiao will forever be haunted by the sight of it…and even more so when he returns to his spot one night, just to witness you bidding goodnight to another stranger who eventually took his side of the bed.

he’ll never tell you that he saw you break yourself over and over again, until you finally found someone to help pick up the pieces for you. he’d never admit to you that he watched you grow happy in that old and familiar house with another man, never divulge to anyone how seeing your young children scamper across the living room still tears his heart a little, never let himself forget the fact that this was a decision that was needed to be made for the sake of protecting his homeland…and ultimately you.

the you that accidentally caught a glimpse of the adeptus’ fleeing frame one lonely night, the you that had initially degraded it to a hallucination yet still witnessed the repetitive sight of it every evening - the you that never found the courage to call him out, and instead bitterly resorted to donning a ring onto your lonely finger, because it helped you pretend like xiao was still the person you were spending the rest of your transient mortal life with.

and he’s sorry that you had to make yourself feel that way, sorry that he could never allow himself to grow old and wrinkly beside you, sorry he left that distant night because he was too tainted and you were blinded to not realize you deserved better - sorry he could never learn how to love like you.

[padf00ts-l0ver]

You're My Best Friend

Platonic Marauders x Reader, (Reader x OC)

(implied Gryffindor reader)

prompt: (Platonic) Marauders comfort their best friend after a break up

She/her pronouns used, set in 5th year

You and Richard started dating just before the end of 4th year, you met up a lot through break. That was a relief to the marauders, knowing they didn’t have to sit through Richard and you being in the honeymoon phase, all cutesy, and adorable, and totally vomit worthy to watch.

By now it had been 6 months of the both of you together and it seemed as though what they thought was the ‘honeymoon phase’ was not just the beginning of the relationship. It just didn’t stop.

The common room cuddles, seemingly never-ending goodbyes when leaving for a class, kisses on the cheek and the nose before bed, and the worst of all, the baby voice. Oh, how the boys hated that baby voice.

The baby voice is supposed to be just that, a baby voice! To be used when talking to a cute little baby only, not two fifteen year olds dramatically parting with each other until morning, or for an hour in a class they didn’t have with each other.

But they put up with it, they didn’t say anything, and they kept the knowing looks subtle (or Sirius thought his looks were subtle, when really Remus had to make an excuse for him, that 'Sirius was sick', when you asked why he was looking at you and Richard in the common room with a grimace and a scrunched up nose)

But you were happy, and that’s all that mattered to them, no matter how annoying it could get, secretly they all were happy to always see you with a bright smile on your face, especially when Richard was ever brought into a conversation, how your eyes lit up. They couldn’t help but be over the moon for their friend.

2 days it had been now.

2 days of you cooped up in your dorm, luckily today was Sunday so you hadn’t missed any classes.

2 days since you walked in on your boyfriend Richard McLaggen snogging some 6th year Ravenclaw.

2 days since you slapped him right across the face (when James and Sirius found out that happened, they were so upset they didn’t see it)

2 days since you had your heart broken and torn to shreds by a person you put all your trust into.

2 days since any of the marauders have seen you.

They have been worried out of their minds once they saw you storming down the stairs of the boys dormitory in tears on Friday afternoon, they had just seen you 5 minutes before in the common room and you were as happy as could be.

So they knew that the only possible reason you could have gone from happy rainbows and butterflies, to steam out of your ears, water fountain from yours eyes … in a 5 minute time bracket, was because of that idiot you called a boyfriend.

They’d never liked Richard, thought he was a git ever since second year when he ‘accidentally’ tripped over in potions class, consequently spilling James’s potion everywhere. James went bald for a whole week.

But when you two became friends in 4th year after meeting in Remus’s study group, (the rest of the boys were livid that Remus allowed Richard in the study group in the first place). They had to act friendly to him whenever you were around, because c’mon it was you! How could they ever say no to you?

But when they found out the source of the problem at hand, they found no problem in shooting a few ‘harmless’ hexes at him.

A few days in the hospital wing was what he deserved after battering their sweetest friends heart.

It took Lily a whole lot of convincing to keep the 4 boys out of your dorm over the weekend, telling them ‘she needs space’ ‘you lot can see her in a few days’ ‘she doesn’t want to see anyone’

And although all they wanted to do was keep you company with ice cream, chocolate and movie marathons and cuddles up in your dorm, lily was a very stubborn human being, and so they waited it out, for 2 whole days.

It was Monday morning when they first saw you, it happened to be a no class day, since the roof of the great hall starting raining with no warning and it flooded, somehow even in a world of magic, even spells can’t fix some things, so they needed a day to clear out all the water.

With red rimmed and swollen eyes, you trudged down the girls stairs into the common room where the boys were sitting on the couches. You’d decided to just be comfy today, so you had on your (Remus’s) warm sweater and some old jeans you had in your trunk.

You knuckled at your sleepy eyes and finally as you had a few steps left to go, the 4 boys looked up at you. It was Peter who first stood up and met you halfway for a hug. You basked in his warmth for a minute before you felt more pairs of arms around you and peter, making it a big group hug.

‘you feeling a bit better?’ James asked softly, to not disturb the quiet atmosphere around them

You just shrugged your shoulders a little and mumbled a ‘eh’,

‘never liked that guy anyway, y’were too good for him’ Sirius said, a hint of malice in his tone directed at Richard.

‘he’s stupid to think he could have anyone better than you, I promise darling, if he even had the thought running through his mind to go and do this to you, then he wasn’t the right one’ Remus murmured warmly above you, his chin resting on your head.

‘I’m really sorry y/n’ it was peter who whispered this time, as he was the closest to you, your head resting on his chest, you could hear him the clearest.

‘s’fine’

‘it isn’t though …. Don’t know if this is the right moment to bring it up, but we got him pretty good, Madam Pomfrey had to give him some of those revolting potions to make the big headed hex to go away, bugger deserved it’ James said, twirling some of your hair with his fingers.

You had to let out a little laugh at that, imagining Richard with a head twice the size of his body was quite the amusing thought ‘I hope you didn’t do anything too bad’

‘Us? Never’ Sirius replied cheekily

‘hey, since we have an off day, do y’wanna go get some ice cream and chocolates from the kitchen? You have the pick of whatever movies we watch, we aren’t even allowed to complain. Sound good?’ Remus asked you with a smile you could hear from his voice

You smiled into peters chest, you all still wrapped up in the massive hug, not ready to pull away just yet. ‘I would love that’

Internally, you thanked the universe for giving you the best friends you could possibly have, as you all got ready for a movie day filled with chocolates and ice cream

tag- @scandalous-chaos

reblogs appreciated <333

[taetaespeaches]

“How could you hide something from me? I’m the love of your life.”

jimin x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.7K

a/n: I gotta say, after all the shit I’ve made these two go through, writing this was so satisfying. They deserve this soft adorable moment :( I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :))

Hand in hand, you and Jimin walked down the shore as the sun set over the sea, the Busan skyline beginning to shine in the dimming sky. As you stepped together, Jimin kept bumping his hip against yours teasingly, sending you into giggles every time.

“Jimin,” you whined through your laughter as he knocked into you again, pulling you right back to him with a tug on your hand. “Stop,” you dragged the word out as you flung your arm around his chest, holding yourself to him.

He easily adjusted his hold on you, pulling you to stand in front of him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he continued walking, making you move backwards. “You’re so annoying,” you told him half-heartedly, swinging an arm around the back of his neck.

“Me?” He questioned, feigning offense. “You’re the one stumbling all over the place,” he nodded to the side where you were previously walking. Rolling your eyes, you pushed your lips to his chin, leaving a messy kiss to the spot.

“Annoying,” you mumbled as you trailed your mouth to his, kissing him softly. The man stopped walking as he kissed you back, smiling into the meeting. In response to his grin, you couldn’t help the upward curve of your own mouth.

When a gust of wind zipped down the beach, you shivered in your boyfriend’s arms, the man pulling his face from you to inspect your features. “Are you cold?” He asked, his eyes wide and considerate, bringing his hands to your upper arms as he rubbed them soothingly in an attempt to warm you.

“A little,” you told him softly, Jimin’s eyes turning to crescents as he grinned at you fondly.

“Come here, Dear,” he told you just before lifting the bottom of his hoodie and grabbing the back of your head, attempting to shove you inside the clothing. Squealing, your hands grasped his abdomen as you tried to hold him at a distance. “Come on, we need to warm you up,” he claimed through his laughter.

“Chimmm,” you whined through your giggles and screams.

“Dear, you’ll freeze,” he asserted teasingly, you groaning in response. Relenting, you allowed him to place the hoodie overtop your head, your face squished against his t-shirt covered chest.

“Jimin,” you laughed, your voice mumbled as he laughed whole-heartedly outside the clothing smothering you.

Releasing you from the confines of the hoodie, he threw his body forward in laughter, you catching him as you tossed your own head back in amusement; like a call and response.

There were a few other people on the beach, all at a distance, but you were sure you were quite the spectacle in that moment. However, you didn’t pay anyone else any mind. Not when Jimin was smiling and laughing like that, little squeaks leaving his pretty lips. He was stunning. Magnetic and enchanting. And you were deeply in love.

When he finally regained his composure, he easily slid the hoodie off his body and held it open for you. “Here,” he nodded to you, signaling for you to lift your arms so he could place the clothing onto your body.

“You’ll get cold,” you pouted, Jimin giggling as he shook the material slightly to try to trigger you into action.

“I’ll be fine, Dear, please put this on,” he insisted.

With a sigh, you reluctantly held your arms over your head so he could work the plush apparel onto your frame. As you stuck your hands through the sleeves, he tugged the neck opening over your head, smiling and chuckling lightly at the way your scrunched face appeared.

“You’re so cute,” he cooed, brushing his fingers over your hairline to push back any strands. Letting his hands drag down the sides of your face, he held your cheeks gently between his palms. “I love you so much,” he told you softly, his eyes taking time as they admired each of your features.

Astounded under the concentration of his smitten gaze, you licked your lips as you brought your hands to clasp around his wrists. “I love you so much more,” you admitted, a soft smile just barely tugging on your mouth.

Shaking his head in disagreement, you expected him to negate the statement, but instead, he simply placed his forehead against yours sweetly.

“It amazes me how much my family loves you,” he smiled as he spoke the words, you letting out a breathy giggle. You were visiting his family in Busan for the past few days, and it never seized to warm both of your hearts to see and feel how much love they poured into you.

“Me too,” you smiled. “I don’t quite understand why but it means so much to me that they do,” you told him, your orbs misting as you sat in the feeling of their love; Jimin’s love. “You’ve brought so much love into my life,” you shared your thoughts, softly but openly. “From your friends, your family, you,” you paused. “I just didn’t even know I was worthy of it until you, Chim.”

Feeling a tear drop on his thumb, he angled is head to be able to see your face just slightly better. “Dear,” he breathed out through his grin. “All I did was fall in love with you,” he chuckled, just before placing a kiss to the space between your eyes. “It was easy to do.”

Sighing in content, you smiled at his words as he pulled away from you to look into your eyes directly. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered, you laughing as he wiped under your eyes gently.

The both of you simply stared at each other once more, the love between you as vibrant as ever but feeling much more forward and prominent in that moment. You were always in love with the man and he could still make your heart flutter at any given moment, but after so many years together it was rare that you felt nervous in his presence. But the way he stared at you with an overwhelming amount of affection, you felt your nerves rise.

Jimin inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly in a long shaky breath. Mistaking the unsteadiness of his exhale for a shiver, your eyes widened.

“Are you cold now?” You asked him, Jimin smiling stunningly at you as he shook his head.

“No, I’m ok,” he assured you, you pulling your eyebrows together scrutinizingly.

“I think you’re lying,” you told him, cocking your head to the side. “Or maybe you’re hiding something,” you continued, stepping back from him and out of his grasp. The man’s hands dropped to his sides as he sighed in annoyance at your sudden teasing. “What are you hiding Park Jimin?” You questioned him, walking backwards, moving closer to the waves washing up on the shore gently. When your bare feet were submerged by water, you smirked at him.

“What are you doing?” He questioned you, watching you intently.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, shaking your head.

“Now you’re hiding something too,” he pointed out, you gasping.

“Was that an admission then? That you’re hiding something from me?” You asked in feigned offense. “Jimin, how could you hide something from me? I’m the love of your life.” Before he could respond, you kicked your foot across the water, splashing the man with the chilly ocean spray.

Gasping at the cool water, he curled in on himself to shield his body from you as you splashed him again. “Are you cold now?” You asked through your giggles, Jimin laughing as he turned his back to you.

Yelling out in response to your actions, you threw your head back in amused laughter. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, stepping toward him. “Do you want your hoodie back, Chim?” You asked, reaching your hand out to touch his back when you neared him.

However, before you made contact with him, the man spun around to face you and dropped to one knee, an open ring box in his hands as he held them out toward you. With a gasp, your hands shot toward your face to cover your mouth. “Jimin, oh my god,” you spoke in shock.

“You’re everything to me,” he told you seriously. “You’re everything I want and everything I didn’t even know I wanted.”

“Jimin,” you whispered through your hands as you watched tears form in his pretty orbs.

“And there hasn’t been a moment since I’ve known you that I’ve wanted to live without you,” he continued, both of you crying as you stared at each other. “So, if you feel the same way-”

“I do,” you interjected, Jimin’s lips widening into his beautiful smile as he dropped his head forward slightly with a giggle.

“Will you marry me?” He finished his proposal, looking back up to you just in time to see you dropping onto your knees in front of him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you told him, the words getting lost in a mumble as you pressed your lips to his, Jimin kissing you back just as eagerly as your arms wrapped around the back of his head.

“Hang on, hang on,” he chuckled, you pulling away slightly. “Let me put this on you,” he smiled, you squealing as you placed your hands between your bodies. He slid the ring on easily, the jewelry stunning and perfect, causing you both to stare at it for a moment. “Do you like it?” He asked nervously, you giggling at the ridiculous question.

“I love it so much, it’s perfect,” you assured him, looking back to him as you beamed. Jimin leaned forward to softly kiss your lips as you mumbled I love you’s against his mouth. “I’m so lucky to have you,” you pulled your lips from his just slightly as you teared up once more, Jimin smiling as he trailed kisses along your cheek.

“Me too,” he mumbled against your face, just before bringing his mouth back to yours.

With your promise ring from years earlier on your right hand, and now the engagement ring on your left hand, you couldn’t help the upward curve of your lips as you kissed the man who you loved more than anyone. Because he loved you too. And he’s always made it so known to you that he intended to spend his life with you. He wanted you, and you him. As you both lost yourselves in each other, you were certain Busan had never seen a love quite so pure.

[seungmvnnie]

Flipped

pairing; Chenle x reader

genre; enemies to lovers au, ‘American high school’ au, angst, fluff

word count; 10.8k

summary; ‘The moment you laid eyes on Zhong Chenle, you had flipped.’ You had known that you were in love with Chenle, your next door neighbor, since you were 7 years old. Chenle wanted nothing to do with you. Until of course, ten years later he starts to realize that perhaps there’s more to you that meets the eye, unluckily just as you began to realize, perhaps Chenle was less than you had chalked him up to be.

warnings; insensitive language regarding illness, death, female reader, heavily inspired by the movie flipped, some scenes are near word for word from the movie, so credits to the movie for those parts, although parts of the main narrative differ, as well as scenes. A large majority of the characters are not similar to their real life counterpart. 

tag list; @sunflowerhae​ @byunbaekby​​ @mikasrecs​(if you asked to be on the tag list and i didn’t tag you, i’m very sorry, i was terrible at tracking who was on it cause im an idiot)

a/n; Started making it. Had a breakdown. Bon Appetit.

It all began in the Summer before second grade. In Zhong Chenle’s eyes, it was the beginning of a decade of strategic avoidance, awkward encounters, and a lifetime worth of what he deemed to be, discomfort.

For you, it was true love.

The moment you laid eyes on Zhong Chenle, you had flipped. It was something in those eyes, those dazzling brown eyes which bore into you. Or maybe it was something about his smile. There was something about him which made you realize that at 7 years old, you had met your soul mate. His family had just moved into your neighborhood, a long cul-de-sac of identical, modern two-story houses, the majority of which had the same identical clean cut lawns and typical nuclear well off family who owned the house and prided themselves on how their petunias were better than the house across the streets. That was except for yours, of course. Deemed the ‘embarrassment of the neighborhood,’ the yellow paint on your house was flaking off, the grass dry and grey and the fence encasing the yard, which had at one point been white was now a dull grey, not to mention falling apart in some places. This was attributed to the fact that your father simply did not have the time. As a painter, he had to work extra hard to provide for his family, especially considering your mother’s situation.

It was a hot summer’s day, the day Chenle moved in. You could remember the feeling of the sun on your face as you basked in its warmth, the pavement on which you sat almost boiling as the moving van pulled up to the house opposite yours. You had recalled that your father had told you to always be kind and helpful, which is why you had thought it appropriate to skip across the road to the nice looking family and offer a helping hand.

Little did you know, your help was unwanted. Chenle remembered watching the girl skip – skip? As if anyone had done that since kindergarten – from the odd-looking house across the way and when she confidently stated,

“Hi, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Need any help?” He looked to his father for confirmation that this girl was strange. He noticed the judgmental look which was written on his father’s face as he surveyed the girl with the messy hair and grubby clothes, no doubt from playing in the unpleasant yard which she came from that juxtaposed with their clean, green yard. He recognized the exact moment that his father deemed them better than her, a switch in his face where he knew where she stood on the social ladder. Acting according, he too looked at the girl with disdain.

“There’s some valuable things in those boxes. Don’t touch them.” His father had scolded as you reached for one of the boxes that were stacked on their lawn.

“What about this one?” You suggested, reaching for another one. This was the moment that Chenle had realized that this girl could not take a hint. His father had pushed the box away with his foot before you could even touch it.

“Maybe you should run home? Your moms probably worried about you.” He sneered, staring down his nose on you. Resilient, you stared back.

“My dad knows I’m here.” You had replied simply, before turning to Chenle.

“Want to push one together?” You asked, pointing at one of the heavier ones. Chenle scrunched his face up at you, looking to his father for answers.

“I think your mom wants your help in the house, Chenle.” His dad had replied, not so subtly winking at him, as if to say, ‘escape from the crazy girl while you can.’

 He seized the opportunity, turning on his heel and running towards the house, where his mother stood in the doorway, when the most ridiculous thing happened. Not only did (Y/N) (Y/L/N) follow him, but you grabbed his hand.

“Oh, hello! I see you’ve met my son.” His mother had called out, a small smile growing on her face as she observed the sight of the two 7-year olds connected by their hands.

Chenle, having no clue how to escape the situation, did the most mature thing a 7-year-old boy could do. He hid behind his mother.

Who did you think you were? He had been here for less than 10 minutes and he had some crazy girl trying to hold his hand.

Of course, for you, you really had thought you were being kind. The boxes on the lawn did look intimidatingly heavy but you were sure with the help of the cute boy stood next to them, you could help get them into the house. You hadn’t picked up on the fact that it had taken Mr. Zhong all of 10 seconds to determine that you weren’t worthy of their time and when he had sent his son inside to help unpack, you thought maybe it would be a good idea to chase after him, see if he wanted to play for a bit before he was stuck unpacking boring boxes. You had grabbed his arm to stop him from running into his house, when he turned around and moved his arm out of your clasp, grabbing your hand instead.

You could remember vividly, the way your stomach had flipped as he stared at you with those deep brown eyes, and you had been so sure he was going to kiss you. He had held your hand! At 7, you had basically considered that a marriage proposal. If his mother had not have called out to you, you were sure you were going to have had your first kiss at 7 years old. The way he blushed and hid behind his mother was adorable, he was so shy.

That night you lay awake, thinking of the boy who was walking around with your first kiss.

If only he wasn’t so shy, maybe he would have. That was the moment you decided, you were going to do everything in your power to ensure that Chenle would not have to ever feel shy around you. He needed to know; he had a friend in you.

While sweet in theory, the reality of the situation was, Chenle believed he did not need the help of, what his father had referred to the evening after you, your two older brothers and your father brought over homemade pies, ‘trash like them.’ He especially did not need the help of the girl who embarrassed him on the first day of school. Yes, you had thought it appropriate, upon seeing Chenle enter the classroom of Mr. Lee on the very first day of school, to run up to him and give him a huge hug, which he of course, had struggled against. That’s what had earned him the reputation of being (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s boyfriend, a reputation he did not manage to shrug off until freshman year of high school, and he only got rid of through dating Lee Chaeryong for an incredibly brief period of time, who was perfectly sweet, but he didn’t find her particularly interesting.

For a while, he found dealing with Chaeryong’s insistence yammering about nothing he cared about a lot easier to endure than the lovesick eyes you gave him. The plan was, he would walk her to class a few times, sit with her at lunch and eventually, you would lose interest, he could break up with her.  It was all going smoothly, until his best friend, Park Jisung, suddenly decided to get a moral backbone for once and tell Chaeryong what Chenle was doing. Chenle reckoned it was just because of Jisung’s own crush on her, but either way, it had resulted in a very public breakup. A week later, you were back to obsessing over him, and once again he became, (Y/N)’s boyfriend.

 3 years later, their senior year, brought a lot of changes, the main change of which being Chenle’s grandfather had permanently moved in with their family. Chenle did not know much of his grandfather. An old surly man, he spent his days sat in the armchair beside their front window, staring blankly out into the empty street. Chenle’s mom said he did that because he missed grandma, although Chenle would not know as much he had very little conversations with him. The second change in Chenle’s life was more superficial as everyone was talking about how much (Y/N) had grown between the summer of junior and senior year – your face had thinned out, and you had a much more of a mature air about you and for a brief moment of, what Chenle had deemed insanity, he may have mistaken you as pretty. Of course, the second you had sent him the same goofy smile which graced your face every time you looked at him, and murmured the same,

“Hi, Chenle,” the pit in his stomach from the tired repetition of ten years returned.

“Hi, (Y/N).” He had replied, a tight-lipped smile sent your way.

 It is imperative to the justification of your side of the story that you understand that Chenle had never once openly rejected you, or even treated you rudely. You would talk to him when you could, and he would reply perfectly politely, which would only reinforce the idea that it’s not that he did not like you, he was just shy. On top of that, it was not as if you actively pursued him. You spoke to him like one would a friend as, how you saw it, everyone knew you liked Chenle, no doubt, including him. If he wanted to, he would ask you out. Other than that, you were content talking to him when you could.

 Other than your looks, a lot more had changed in your life. For almost as long as you could remember, your mother had been sick. There had been a time, a very long time ago, where you could recall how the same scalic motif would echo from the piano which now lay dormant, the thick layer of dust that had blanketed it over the years rendering it inoperable. Your life had been filled with hospital visits to a woman you had never really gotten the opportunity to know and who no longer knew you. You often grazed your hand over the ivory piano keys, and tried to flick through the penciled sheet music which hadn’t been touched since the last time your mom had last scribbled on them but to you it was a foreign language you could only hope to understand.

About a week into September, you had been ignoring your English teacher’s in-depth analysis of some Shakespeare scene and letting your thoughts and eyes wander to where Chenle sat two seats in front of you. His black hair had seemed even darker that day, contrasting with the white t-shirt and denim jacket he was wearing. You were so focused on the way his head would duck down to take notes, that you barely noticed the teacher who had slid into the classroom and leaned to whisper something in your teacher’s ear. It wasn’t until your teacher had called your name and Chenle had spun to stare at you alongside the rest of the class, his brown eyes meeting yours, that you had snapped back into reality, the heat of your embarrassment at getting caught by Chenle warming your face. Funnily enough, you had forgotten about your embarrassment when your teacher had called you out into the hallway, where your tearful father stood. He didn’t have to say anything. You knew.

The next week all blurred together into a flurry of emotions which you purposefully tried your best to forget. The funeral was huge, groups of people from your school coming to show solidarity, as well as the entire neighborhood, including Chenle and his family. You could not bring yourself to glance at him, not with your father crying quietly next to you. You did not know whether to cry for the woman you had never met before. 

  Your school allowed you the next few months off school, but you had returned after only one month and that month was the quietest your house had ever been. Your father locked himself in his room for the first two weeks, and your brothers oversaw making dinner for the family, which essentially meant the whole family was living off frozen pizza for two weeks. Your dad eventually emerged from his bedroom, but when he did, he was like a man crazed. He insisted that you did a spring clean (it was September) of the house and get rid of the clutter which had gathered from the many years of neglect. You were in charge of sorting through all of the things your dad wanted to give to charity, and you had invited your friend Shin Ryujin over to help. More like she insisted. Ryujin had been new to town in freshmen year and had befriended you before she had known of your reputation as ‘Chenle’s stalker,’ and she had been a fierce friend ever since. You had both been folding a pile of old clothes when your eyes fell on your mom’s old music stand accompanied with that oh so familiar stack of written sheet music under a pile of old toys. 

You didn’t want your mom’s handwritten sheet music to end up in a charity shop but your dad had insisted that no one was using it, and, unless you could think of someone else to give it to, it was going to charity. That was when, luckily, you remembered Chenle. He was a skilled piano player and singer, so much so, the whole school anticipated his performance in the Christmas Talent Show, which he had won for the past 3 years. Upon gaining your father’s permission, but against the wishes of Ryujin who had spent the past three years explaining how Chenle was terrible for you and you needed to, in her words, ‘Hoe it up,’ you made the journey across the road and knocked on Chenle’s door, clutching the music stand and sheet music to your chest. Luckily, he had been the one to open the door instead of his father whom you didn’t personally mind, but felt as though he may have disliked you. 

It had been early before school one morning, when you had knocked on his door. He was barely awake, the sweatpants and loose t-shirt he had worn for his pajamas still clung to his body. He hadn’t expected to be opening the door to someone from school, let alone you, awake and bright eyed. On a normal day, your chirpiness would have bothered him to no end, but today was different. He hadn’t seen you since your mom’s funeral, and he found that he had wounded up missing your ever-present annoyance. He didn’t know how reassuring that lovesick, “Hi, Chenle,” could be. He couldn’t understand how, in your absence, he found his eyes straying to your empty seat, or when he sat at his desk which lay in front of his window, his eyes would wander to where he knew your bedroom window sat. He had realized, in the few weeks that you were off, that your presence was more comforting that your absence.

His dad hadn’t wanted to go the funeral. Apparently, he didn’t see the point. It was his mother who had pushed them to go, saying how bad they would have looked if they didn’t show their faces. His dad had argued that he didn’t care how he looked to a poor dreamer and the ‘crazies he calls family.’ The only reason they ended up going was because his mom had said she was going with or without him and apparently that would look bad to everyone else in the neighborhood. Chenle didn’t see the harm; sure he didn’t like you, but you were always nice to him and it was only respectful.

“Uh- Hi, (Y/N).” He said, eyes wandering down your body to where you clutched the sheet music and back up to your face. Your heart had flipped, a sensation you were now old friends with and usually attributed to Chenle’s warm brown eyes which traversed your face, his morning voice only making him more attractive. Little did you know, Chenle’s biggest concern at this moment was less checking you out and more checking if you were okay, and judging by the tired bags under your eyes despite your outwardly cheery appearance, you didn’t look okay.

“Hi, Chenle.” For once, those two words didn’t make him want to rip his own hair out.

“Uh, these are my mom’s. My dad wanted to give them to charity but, I don’t know, I thought they’d be better with someone I know... and well, you’re kind of the only musician I know.” His eyes flickered down to the sheet music you clutched in your arms.

“Oh- Thanks?” The music stand looked to Chenle to be at least 30 years old and the yellowing sheet music did not look too enticing, but he reached out his arms for them anyways.

“She wrote the music herself. You don’t have to play it but, I don’t know, I just really didn’t want to see it end up in the back of some charity shop. At least I know, with your talent, it’s in good hands.”

“Oh, well thanks.” You sent him an awkward closed mouth smile before turning on your heel but before you could make the short walk across the road, he called out to you.

“Wait-”

You spun around again.

“Yeah?”

He had stood up from where he had previously been leaning against the door frame, his brow now furrowed.

“Are you- are you coming back to school anytime soon?” He almost cringed as he uttered the words. He always felt bad being nice to you, it felt as if he was giving you false hope. However, for the first time, it came naturally to him as opposed to the fake smile he would give you.

“I’m allowed off until January but I’m coming back next week. It’s just so... quiet at my house. I’m kind of sick of it at this point.” His eyes scanned your face again, in the way that felt as though he could stare into your very soul if he looked hard enough.

“Well, I hope you’re okay.” The sincerity in his voice echoed the sympathetic look on his face.

“Thanks. I’ll see you next week, I guess.”

“See you at school.” He closed the door and looked at the music stand he had left leaning against the wall, which, unfortunately, became the topic of discussion that night at the dinner table.

“I think it was very nice of her to give you that stuff, Chenle.” His Mom had said, the clinking sounds of cutlery against plates underlying the conversation.

“I’m not using them,” He replied simply, as he moved the vegetables his mom had forcibly placed on his plate around with his fork. 

“Oh, don’t be a dick, Chenle.” His sister nudged him, ignoring their parent shouts of, ‘language!’

“I’m not being a dick, they’re about 30 years old and I’m a piano player, I don’t use a music stand anyways.” He placed his fork down.

“Well, they’re not lying here and collecting dust. I’m honestly annoyed. Just because their house is all cluttered doesn’t mean our house has to be. You can go back and tell her you don’t want them.” His dad interjected, in that authoritarian manner he so loved.

“Dad, I can’t do that.”

“Eat your vegetables, Chenle.” His mom said, taking a sip from her way-too-expensive crystal wine glass. He rolled his eyes and picked up his fork again, purposely taking a bite out of the broccoli which adorned his plate.

“Why not? Are you scared of her?” His dad challenged, and Chenle couldn’t help but notice the broccoli which remained on his plate. Why did Chenle have to eat it but his dad didn’t?

“I’m not scared of her, it’s just- Her mom just died. I don’t want to be mean.” His fork stopped moving as his Father scoffed.

“Man up. You aren’t being rude, you’re being honest.”

“Chenle, vegetables.” 

He groaned, shoveling as much of the vegetables into his mouth as he possibly could in one go before sinking down in his chair. He didn’t have a clue what to do. On one hand, the music equipment was of no use to him, so realistically, it would make the most sense to give them back. But on the other hand, if he gave them back they would just end up with charity and while Chenle didn’t necessarily like the girl, he didn’t think he could be that insensitive. Which was why he had deemed it an amazing idea to ask the paragon of good advice, his best friend, Park Jisung, at school the next day.

“Dude, just give it away yourself.” Jisung had answered assertively, from where he had perched himself atop his desk during their break, opening the cupcake that Chenle had given him. It had originally been a gift from Chaeryong who had long since forgiven him since the Freshmen incident, and every now and then when she got bored, would return to her phase of crushing on him.

“What do you mean?” Chenle asked, ignoring the way he could most definitely see Chaeryong staring at him from behind Jisung’s head, taking a sip of the strawberry milk he had bought from the school vending machine. Jisung rolled his eyes.

“I mean, if you give it away to some thrift shop first, she’ll never know, and you can tell your family that you told her. Boom, both people are happy.” Chenle chewed at the straw of his milk carton. He wasn’t necessarily wrong; in giving the stuff away himself, no one got hurt and he wouldn’t get called a coward by his family.

“Jisung, you’re a genius. Come with me after school? We’ll drop by my house and I’ll drive us into town.” Jisung nodded, cringing as he picked the love heart candy off the cupcake.

Unfortunately for Chenle, he hadn’t seemed to realize that, sat with her back to him was Ryujin, who had overheard the whole conversation, mostly because Chaeryong had insisted they eavesdropped on them to see if they talked about her. Ryujin had let Chenle away with a lot over the years; he had ignored you, laughed at you with his friends, talked about you behind his back and while she would discuss how much of a prick she thought he was with you, you never believed her, or blamed yourself, or make excuses for him. Which was why she deemed it a necessary evil to send you a text saying, ‘Want to go thrift shopping after school? I’ll buy you coffee?’

She knew you would never turn down free coffee. And it actually had turned out you had multiple boxes to donate anyways, although shopping with Ryujin was always an experience. You liked clothes shopping as much as anyone, but Ryujin was crazy. She could take 3 hours to go through one tiny shop.

“Ryujin? Are you done yet?” You had whined, the cardboard coffee cup in your hand had been emptied at least half an hour ago, and you had finished looking for clothes an hour ago. She was especially taking her time today, deliberating every item of clothing she saw and the dark lighting was starting to hurt your eyes, the musky smell of cedar wood and laundry detergent was inviting at first, but now made you feel woozy.

“My feet hurt.” You complained again, only pouting at the joke glare she shot your way. The bell which jingled every time someone entered the shop that you had learned to zone out the past two hours rang again, but this time, Ryujin’s eyes flickered up and rested on the person standing at the door. You furrowed your brow and spun to see who she was staring at, and there stood Chenle and Jisung, both looking positively ill.

“Oh- Hi, Chenle!” You waved, a small smile gracing your face. You cocked your head slightly to look at the two boys who had lost all color to their faces. Chenle still looked as good as ever, and the smell of his citrusy shampoo paired with his expensive smelling cologne cut through the woody scent of the shop, his chestnut brown eyes which lay beneath his messy mop of dark hair bringing butterflies to your stomach the way they always did.

“What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a-,” you didn’t get to finish your sentence as your eyes had fallen down to where he clutched the oh so familiar sheet music and music stand. Your smile dropped, the butterflies in your stomach mutating into lead.

“What are you doing with those?” You asked, quietly, ignoring the way Jisung almost ran back out of the shop.

“I- uh- well...” He looked down, staring guiltily at his hands and the rusty music stand he clutched.

“If you didn’t want them you could have said, you know. You didn’t have to go behind my back to give them away.” You snapped, and for the first time in your whole life, looking at Chenle made your heart sink instead of flip. 

“It wasn’t me! My dad said that he didn’t-” He stopped, as if he had caught himself.

“Didn’t what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. He sighed, and glance to the side, almost as though he was refusing to meet your eyes.

“He said he didn’t understand why our house had to be cluttered just because you only started cleaning up your house and yard now.” He mumbled, and your eyes widened, and you put out an arm to stop Ryujin, who you could sense was about to jump on the boy.

“I didn’t think a bunch of sheet music was going to destroy your house that much.” You replied, letting out a huff and gulping away the lump in your throat, refusing to cry in front of him.

“I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” He mumbled, staring at his hands in shame. He had never wished that the ground would swallow him whole more in his entire life.

“You should have told me. Give them to the shop, honestly. I don’t care anymore.” You pushed past him, resisting the urge to throw the empty cardboard coffee cup at him.

“(Y/N)!” He called after you and you turned again, blinking back the tears which were gathering in your eyes, the constant chanting of, ‘don’t cry,’ becoming a sustained pedal in your head and realistically being the only thing stopping the tears from spilling.

“What?”

“I- I’m sorry.” His chestnut eyes you loved so much stared at you in that sincere way that felt as though he could stare into your soul if he tried hard enough, but for once, you could see a corruption in the honesty, a sort of rotten core to what you had previously thought was a pure center.

“No, you’re not.” You mumbled, before spinning back round and dragging Ryujin out by the wrist who had to drop the clothes she had clutched previously in a pile next to the door, having been given no opportunity to replace them tidily.

At first you had thought you were upset, the burning sensation in your chest was mistaken for sadness, but when you brought your hand up to your eyes to wipe away the tears which now fell, the downtrodden feeling switched into anger very quickly. Not only did Chenle lie and act as if he had cared about you and your family, but he had the audacity to talk about you all as if you were a group of hoarders who couldn’t keep your yard presentable.

You slammed your car door shut - while you had previously loved your run-down little jeep, you supposed perhaps the Zhong family liked to comment on that too - ignoring the comforting words Ryujin was uttering as she climbed into the passenger seat.

“Are you busy on Saturday?” You asked as you gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, turning the key in the ignition.

“Uh- I don’t think so. Why?” Ryujin replied, eyeing you warily.

“How do you feel about gardening?”

It didn’t take long for Chenle to realize he had traded in his old problems with (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for a whole set of new ones. You had returned to school the next week, and the way you constantly avoided him was simply a reminder of how much of a jerk he had been. Not to mention when he woke up on Saturday morning to discover you and Ryujin in your garden pulling up weeds, the guilt panging in his chest as he watched you toil away.

Then one day a week later or so, he was walking back from playing basketball from Jisung when things got weird.

His grandfather stood in your front yard, a pair of sheers in hand as he clipped at the hedges which had grown over your windows, conversing quietly with you as you worked.

He had only ever seen his grandfather in slippers - where the hell had those work boots come from? He didn’t even know his grandfather knew how to use sheers let alone would willingly help a random girl from across the street. The more he watched from his bedroom window, the madder he got. His grandfather had said more to you in the last hour than he had the whole time he had lived with them. Chenle wasn’t even sure if he had ever seen his grandfather laugh before, but there he was, laughing at something you said.

You had been struggling with hacking away the hedge when his grandfather had approached you. Ryujin had abandoned helping you a while ago, but you still appreciated the help she had given you originally. You knew gardening wasn’t necessarily her thing. You wanted to think that the reason you had decided to fix up your yard was not because of what Zhong Chenle thought of you, but to make your house better in this new pre-mom times, as your brothers had begun calling them. After what he had done with your mom’s sheet music, why were you meant to care about anything he thought? But sadly, you knew deep down you did.

“Are you pruning that Hedge or hacking it to death?” You heard someone call out, and you swung around to see a man whom you couldn’t help but recognize as being related to Chenle. They had the same smile.

You laughed awkwardly, clutching the sheers a little tighter. 

“I’m Chenle’s grandfather. Sorry it’s taken me so long to come over and introduce myself.” He smiled again and outstretched a hand which you then shook.

“Nice to meet you.” 

“Are you planning on cutting these all to the same height?” He gestured towards the hedges. You breathed in, looking at the hedges which you had previously been ruining.

“That was the plan, but I might have to take them out. I’m not very good at this, if you can’t tell.” You joked.

“Oh, these are Hicksii shrubs. They should prune up nicely.” He replied, pulling out a pair of gloves he had appeared to have brought with him, and reached out for the sheers you had been holding.

You eyed him wearily, as he cut at the hedge. “Listen, Mr. Zhong, if you’re here because of what Chenle said, I don’t need your help.”

He leaned back and looked at you sincerely.

“I don’t know what my little shit of a grandson said to you, but I’m just here because of the crime you were committing on these shrubs.”

The previous reluctance you had felt was immediately relieved as you let out a sincere laugh, not expecting his crude language.

You both worked together on the yard for weeks, and the whole time you worked, you talked. Mr. Zhong was incredibly kind, and it was honestly nice to know that there was someone in that house who wasn’t watching and waiting for your families next screw up. He told you how you had the same spirit as his wife who died a while ago; apparently you both had the same strong will. Although the conversation that stuck with you the most was a few days into working together and he had tentatively asked you about what was happened with you and Chenle. You had explained the situation while you painted the wood you had bought together to make a fence.

“Well, do you like Chenle?” He had asked, and your face warmed, your hand which held the paint brush stilling.

“I don’t know... It’s something about his eyes, I guess.” You looked down, embarrassed. It felt really weird discussing this with his grandfather.

“But what about him?” Mr. Zhong had asked, his hand still as well.

“What do you mean?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing as you turned your head.

“Well - I mean think of it like this. Your father’s a painter, isn’t he? Well, a painting is more than the sum of its parts. You have to look at the whole landscape. A cow by itself is just a cow, a tree is just a tree, a beam of light is just sunshine, but when you put it all together - it can be something magical. Do you think Chenle’s more than the sum of his parts?” If he had asked you a month ago you would have said absolutely. Chenle was entirely more than the sum of his parts, in every conceivable way. But now you weren’t so sure.

“I- I don’t know.”

Meanwhile, Chenle was still struggling to apologize to you. He had spent all week trying to approach you at school, but when it came to holding a grudge, you were truly impressive. You always found a way to duck him, either turning in the hallway to walk the other way or having Ryujin exit through doors first when he tried to block them to confront you. And every time you were out in your yard, his grandpa was always there. It wasn’t until one day, on a cold Saturday morning towards the end of October, when his grandpa had gone into town to buy cream for his hands because all the yard work was starting to get to him, that he found his opening.

“It looks really good.” He commented, grabbing your attention from where you were watering the grass with a hose. You looked up at the boy whom you had dedicated your life to, who stood awkwardly behind the fence you had put up with his grandfather. You wished you could say he looked bad, but in a flannel shirt, black t-shirt and jeans he had never looked better.

“Thanks.” You said quietly, turning your back to him to continue your work.

“I- I’m sorry for what I did.” He piped up and you sighed before switching off the hose and turning towards him again.

“I don’t get it, Chenle. You could have just told me you didn’t need them. You didn’t have to give them away behind my back.” You looked at him, and for once, you were the one looking into his soul, not the other way around. You looked into those eyes, those dazzling brown eyes which bore into you that belonged to the boy walking around with your first kiss and you thought that perhaps his Grandpa was right. Maybe Chenle wasn’t more than the sum of his parts.

“I don’t know - It was dumb. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I shouldn’t have said anything about your yard either. It wasn’t right.” You let your eyes rest on his face again. You were sure - Chenle was definitely less than the sum of his parts. You shrugged.

“Maybe it was for the best.” You turned back towards the grass, turning the hose on again as if to signal, this was the end of the conversation.

“I- I guess I’ll see you around.” He said, hesitantly. You didn’t even turn to look at him this time.

“I guess.”

He spun to make the short trek back to his house, but not without turning back to look at you one last time before opening the bright red door of his house. Your acceptance of his apology was not all he had hoped for, but at least now he could watch TV with his family with a guilt free conscious. although the atmosphere between his grandpa and dad was nearly palpable, especially when his grandfather reached for the cream on the table beside them to rub into his hands.

“That girl working you too hard?” His dad slyly commented, ignoring the foul look his grandfather sent him in response as he rubbed cream into his hands.

“’That girl’s’ name is (Y/N). And no, she isn’t working me too hard.” 

Chenle’s dad widened his eyes slightly, staring down into the brandy which he swirled in the glass he held.

“Do you not think it’s a bit, I don’t know, weird, that you have the time and energy to spend time with the girl next door but not with your own grandson?” He replied snippily, ignoring the way his mom interjected.

“-It’s okay, Dad-” Chenle began, but couldn’t finish as his father cut him off with a sharp, “No, it’s not.”

“Do you know why the (Y/L/N)’s hadn’t fixed up their yard until now?” His grandfather asked, more rhetorically than anything.

“Yeah. Because he’s too busy with his paint-by-numbers kit.” His dad answered, chortling to himself at his own joke, taking another sip of the brandy he was drinking.

“The illness Mrs. (Y/L/N) had was incredibly hard to treat, not to mention emotionally draining. Every penny they had went into hospital bills treating her, and even then, she had been in a coma for 8 years, and then unresponsive for another 5.” Chenle stared down at his hands, trying his best to zone out the argument, especially considering he had been the asshole who tried to give away this poor woman’s music.

“I don’t see what their vegetative mother has to do with their pride in ownership. Realistically, if she had looked after herself more, maybe they wouldn’t have been in this mess.” His dad had answered, once again laughing at his own joke.

“They don’t own that house, they rent it. It’s supposed to be the responsibility of the landlord, and it was nothing to do with how healthy that poor woman was, (Y/N)’s Mom had a blood condition that made her susceptible to strokes, and that’s what made her so ill.” Chenle’s mom sighed from where she sat next to him on the blue couch, before his father had the opportunity to reply and dig himself into a deeper hole.

“That poor family. We should have them over for dinner.” She announced, standing up, grabbing the still full glass from her husband’s hand as she moved into the kitchen.

“We are not having them over for dinner!” His father shouted from the living room.

“We should have them over for a sit down fancy dinner.” She replied, almost deliberately ignoring him.

“We are not - Hey!” He called out as he heard the buttons on the landline beep with each number his mother punched in.

“I’m sorry, I can’t here you over me inviting them over for- Oh hello, (Y/N), dear.” At the sound of your name, Chenle sank farther into the plush couch seats. He just wanted to watch television in peace.

“Shoot me now.” His dad mumbled.

“Careful what you wish for.” His Grandfather replied, not tearing his eyes from the tv and this time he was the one to ignore the evil look which was shot his way.

And so, dinner with the (Y/L/N)’s was in his imminent future, which only made things more uncomfortable at school. Much like when you had taken that month off in school, he found himself focused on the idea of you more than he had previously. He couldn’t get you out of his head, you and your poor mom. He thought he would apologize for the music thing, you would begrudgingly accept his apology, and you could live the rest of the senior year blissfully ignoring each other’s existents. While you had apparently stayed true to the plan, he couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted to find you in class. He had spent 10 years in the same class as you but he had never noticed how you automatically pulled your bottom lip into your mouth when you were focused on something or the way you smiled to stop yourself laughing when Ryujin mumbled some sort of snarky comment. In the same bout of insanity he had experienced at the beginning of the year, he may have mistaken your smile as being pretty. Except this time the insanity did not melt away into resentment, but instead grew into a roaring monster of butterflies anytime he saw you.

He was starting to think he was sick or something. It was like his whole life had been flipped upside down; in what universe was he the one with the clammy hands and racing heart around (Y/N) (/L/N), and she was the one ignoring him? He needed to talk to someone - and who better than the lord of advice himself, Park Jisung.

Luckily for him, him and Jisung were the first people in their home room class the day of the dinner; usually you were in early, but today you conveniently hadn’t been. “Dude, I need your help.” Chenle emphatically exclaimed, sitting down in his seat next to Jisung before explaining the situation.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)? You hate her. You’ve hated her for 10 years.” Jisung blankly stated, and Chenle shook his head. 

“That’s the thing, I don’t think I do. I can’t stop thinking about her.” Jisung rolled his eyes.

“You definitely hate her. Think about it, you just feel bad because of the mom thing. And you insulted her house, but I mean come on, it was a mess anyways.”

“It’s not her fault. Their family is in crazy amounts of debt because her mom had some sort of untreatable illness and she was sick for so long. Do you know apparently, she had been sick for like 13 years? It must have been torture on their family.” Chenle defended, the stubborn side of him which was declaring, it’s been a decade, why stop hating you now, losing out to this new need to defend you.

“Oh, God, really? Well then, there’s your answer.” Jisung replied, leaning back in his chair with confidence, as though he had just solved the world’s problems. Chenle’s eyebrows knotted together, cocking his head.

“What do you mean?” 

Jisung scoffed, as if it was the most obvious thing since the last advice he had kindly bestowed on Chenle.

“You don’t want to be with someone with that in their family. Dude what if she infects you with it?”

Chenle wanted to hit him. He was certain, he had never before in his life been closer to punching someone and God did Jisung deserve it. How dare he say that? He wanted to tell him that it was much more complex than Jisung’s derogatory simplification of your mother’s illness, and just because Jisung was failing biology did not mean he had the right to be going around and saying things like that about you. He wanted to tell Jisung to keep his stupid opinion to himself, but despite this intense fury he felt searing up his chest, all he could manage was a stiff laugh.

“Oh. Yeah.” He mumbled, not looking at him in case the smug smile which had graced Jisung’s face flipped the switch which would erupt the burning anger in his chest.

You had been running late that day. You liked getting up earlier and beating the traffic to school, now more than ever, with the sullen mood your house had fallen into, although with the dinner with the Zhong family in your near future, the three boys of your house appeared cheerier. Your father was good friends with Mrs. Zhong and she had always been a good neighbor, and your two brothers were old friends with Chenle’s older sister. You were only one against the idea, but realistically, what harm could one dinner do? You had woken up and been ready on time, but when you climbed into your sturdy little jeep and turned the ignition keys, the engine made an unfortunate spluttering sound, that rather sounded like it was simply giving up.

You had taken a stab at fixing it, popping the hood and pretending as though you had a single clue about what to look for, but upon realizing there was no hope you started glancing worriedly back at your house. Surely one of the three people who all knew all to drive would know something about what was wrong with the engine. Biggest problem was, they were all asleep, and if you woke them up, you might have lost a hand. You were heavily considering risking the hand when, by some sort of divine intervention, a familiar voice called out to you.

“Need help?”

You started, spinning to see Mr. Zhong, the familiar and kind old face smiling at you. You hated how similar his smile was to Chenle’s; he was simply a reminder of who you thought Chenle used to be. Nonetheless, you smiled and nodded, gesturing to the hood and taking a step back.

“Please. It’s all yours.”

He worked in silence for a moment, pulling at the machinery inside the bonnet.

“How old is this car?” He asked, and his muffled voice could not disguise the astonishment in his voice.

“Uh, I think the last person to drive it was my Mom, so, that should tell you.” You half joked, awkwardly watching him work until he indicated to you to try again.

You climbed into the car and turned the ignition, and it spluttered again, but this time the spluttering graduated into the unhealthy purring sound you were used to.

You rolled your window down, and called a gracious, ‘thank you!’ out the window, but before you could proceed the short drive to school, the man stopped you, leaning against the side of your car.

“Wait a minute, I want to talk to you about something.” You uncomfortably clutched the steering wheel tighter, raising an eyebrow at him, as if to say, ‘go on.’

“You and Chenle? How’s that going?” He asked, an eyebrow raised in a similar fashion, although his was more teasing where yours was questioning. Your heart leapt as your face warmed.

“Oh - uh. I haven’t really spoken to him since.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised.

“Why?” You asked, trying to discreetly gulp away your nervousness.

“Oh, he’s just been speaking about you a lot more, is all. Have fun at school.” 

Your five-minute drive to school was the most anxiety ridden drive you had ever experienced. What did he mean speaking about you more? He was asking about your relationship so would that suggest Chenle was saying nice things? Did Chenle maybe like you? Of course, the idea of Chenle having any sort of romantic feelings towards you felt nearly laughable at this point, but this glimmer of hope that had remained from the past ten years that maybe, just maybe, you had finally grabbed the attention of those sweet brown eyes simmered in your chest before you could push it away. He had treated you badly, you reminded yourself. You didn’t need him.

You stormed into school that morning, affirming that you did not need Zhong Chenle in your life, and if he did finally notice you, that was not your problem. But the little girl in you who had walked up to the door of your classroom to overhear Chenle say your name insisted on eavesdropping. And who were you to say no to her?

“... That’s the thing, I don’t think I do. I can’t stop thinking about her.” You couldn’t stop instinctual fluttering of your heart. Chenle couldn’t stop thinking about you. Chenle couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your previous conclusion that he was not more than the sum of his parts was thrown out of the window and replaced with schoolgirl butterflies.

“You definitely hate her. Think about it, you just feel bad because of the mom thing. And you insulted her house, but I mean come on, it was a mess anyways.” You rolled your eyes. Park Jisung was a self-righteous dick.

“It’s not her fault. Their family is in crazy amounts of debt because her mom had some sort of untreatable illness and she was sick for so long. Do you know apparently she had been sick for like 13 years? It must have been torture on their family.” You had never heard him defend you before, and you couldn’t help the small smile which grew on your face.

“Oh, God, really? Well then, there’s your answer.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t want to be with someone with that in their family. Dude what if she infects you with it?” Your previously elated heart dropped to your stomach as your face fell. Chenle wasn’t going to let him away with that, was he?

“Oh. Yeah.” He was. Zhong Chenle had the perfect knack of getting your hopes up, and just when your heart had warmed to him again, crushing it, and you were sick of it. You spun on your heel, making your way back out to your car without even thinking about it. You didn’t want to have to look at him.

You thought about the situation as you got ready for dinner that night.  You were sick of this stupid game of cat and mouse, where you inevitably always ended up hurt. And thinking back on the past ten years, Chenle had never been a good friend to you. Ever. He gave away your sheet music, he insulted you and now he was talking about you with his friends as if you were some sort of plague just waiting to infect him. You were sick of it and you were sick of him. Zhong Chenle meant nothing to you anymore.

You had half an idea to march out into the hallway where your father was calling you and tell him that you did not want to go, and he couldn’t make you. You drew together pieces of this declaration in your head before firmly making your way into the hall, entirely ready to tell him where the Zhong family could go, but then you saw his face. He had shaved for the first time in a month, the clothes he wore was ironed and smart, and you could have sworn he smelled better than he had in a while. Your previously parted lips closed again and instead of communicating your desire to be anywhere but the Zhong house, the corners turned slightly, mustering up the most sincere smile you could. You could suck up having to sit opposite Chenle for your family - They had gone through so much recently, you thought maybe you could deal with him for another night. 

Your plans to snub him was momentarily interrupted when you realized, as he stomped down the stairs into the entry way of the house, where your family awkwardly hovered, exchanging greetings with the Zhong family, he had worn your favorite jean jacket, white t-shirt and black jeans combo that used to make you melt at the knees. Like always, it made his dark hair seem darker, but you pushed back the bubbling butterflies. What he had done was unforgiveable.

“Why don’t I show you guys my room?” His sister had emphatically exclaimed to your brothers who glanced to your dad. He gave a disinterested shrug, and the three stomped up past where Chenle came from. “Chenle, sweetie, why don’t you bring (Y/N) up to your room? The adults can talk down here.” His mom suggested.

“No, Mrs. Zhong, it’s okay-” You began, but you didn’t get to finish.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, I know you won’t want to be stuck with the adults. Just no funny business!” You ignored the sly comment which Chenle’s dad mumbled under his breath about, ‘that being unlikely,’ and hesitantly made your way up the stairs, following in Chenle’s footsteps. His house was the exact same as yours - sure his stairs didn’t creak from years of you and your brothers abuse , and it was much sleeker - the black and white modern décor juxtaposed greatly with the warm, yellow tones of your own house, plus the fact they obvious could afford to have their carpet replaced with hardwood floors, but other than that, there was nothing spectacularly upper class about their house that would suggest they had any right to look down on yours. 

His room matched his personality to a tee. With grey-white walls plastered with posters of his favorite musicians and athletes whom you didn’t recognize, the room was small but clean and smelt like him. That familiar citrusy scent you associated with him filled the air, and past you would have been intoxicated by him, but current you knew better.

He sat down on top of the checked black and white duvet cover, (little did you know, he was secretly celebrating the fact he had happened to change the Stephen Curry bed sheets the day before) and gestured for you to sit down beside him. You remained standing.

“Uh- Hi.” He greeted, a softness to his voice you didn’t recognize but nearly succeeded in melting the barricade you had placed around your heart. Nearly. You didn’t respond, staring down at your shoes as if, suddenly your vans were the most interesting thing in the world.

“You look really pretty.” There he was again, trying to get your hopes up only to smash them again. You wouldn’t let him. Not this time.

“I know what you and Jisung were saying about my mom. And I’m done with you, okay? You can stop this act now.” You blurted out before you could even stop yourself.

Chenle’s face fell, and his head jerked to the side, almost as if you had genuinely slapped him in the face. He looked like a wounded puppy. Why was it so hard to stay angry at him?

“I- Look, (Y/N), it was wrong what Jisung said, I know. I wanted to hit him.” You raised an eyebrow, which sharpened your features and nearly made Chenle melt, both from the radiating heat of your anger and the sheer attractiveness of the action.

“You didn’t say anything to him. You just agreed and laughed. Like a coward.” You replied, simply.

“Yeah - I know. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry, but look, I’ve had a recent... self-discovery and I like you, (Y/N). If you could just give me a second chance.” He pleaded, standing up to look at you sincerely. His honest, chestnut eyes did not hold the same rotten core you had seen in them a month ago in the charity shop, but you held your ground nonetheless. “Third chance, you mean. Realistically, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. We’ve lived next to each other for 10 years and we’ve had, what, two civil conversations?” Chenle was the one to look down at his feet now, focusing on the hardwood floors. You weren’t wrong - you didn’t really know each other. You relished in the silence as Chenle thought for a moment, before he mumbled,

“That doesn’t change how I feel about you, though.” 

“Well it should.” 

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by his mother’s screaming for them to come to dinner. You had turned and left before he even had the opportunity to draw breath and he was left alone in his empty room, which grey walls that had previously been illuminated with the presence of you had dulled in the absence of your vivacity. 

Dinner was a success for the most part, except for the torture of sitting across from you. He bore holes into the side of your head, but you were so skilled in acting as if he wasn’t there, he was starting to question his actual presence at the dinner table; if it were just you and him sitting there, he would have been convinced he was some sort of ghostly apparition.

“So, you paint, right?” His grandfather had directed toward your dad who nodded politely.

“Yeah, I always loved art and - well I couldn’t afford to go to college so I thought why not kill two birds with one stone and do something I love that I don’t need a college education for.” He replied, the bright look on his face when talking about something he loved was so similar to how you used to look at him that Chenle almost felt sick with guilt.

“And you make much money off of that?” His dad had commented, his knife and fork obnoxiously clinking against the plate. Chenle almost sunk down in his chair.

“I make enough.” Your dad replied, stiffly. He spoke how you spoke to him a mere 15 minutes ago.

“Didn’t you used to like art?” His grandfather had asked, turning to his Dad who shrugged, sipping from his expensive wine glass.

“I painted a little.” Chenle had never seen his dad so uncomfortable.

“No, I remember, you wanted to go to art school, right? But my daughter here talked you out of it.” His dad squirmed in his seat as his mother awkwardly laughed, avoiding the topic entirely and asking your dad another question about his job.

The more your dad discussed his ventures into the world of art, the quieter his dad got. He tried to plaster on a smile every now and then, but underneath, Chenle could tell he was sad. He thought about how his dad had always looked down on your family, and the countless times he had referred to your dad as being ridiculous, a low-life who needed to get a ‘proper job.’ He watched the man who had dwindled his life away and wondered, if he was simply angry at himself, as opposed to the kind family across the street. His father was a coward who didn’t chase what he wanted because he was too scared. Chenle swore to himself there and then, that he would not be a coward, like his father. He refused to become the bitter, jealous old man across the street. And so, late that night, after you had all left, he rifled through the papers on his desk and hatched a plan.

Patience and timing were key elements to Chenle’s plan - A month, to be precise. The day of the Christmas talent show. Everyone was excited to watch Chenle perform, especially now that it had been spread that he was dedicating his performance to someone in the audience. Pretty much everyone in the school who was attracted to boys were praying it was them. All except for you, who still hadn’t spoken to him since that fateful night in his bedroom and had resumed your strategic avoidance of him.

He nervously peaked from the side of the stage of the school theatre which had been transformed from it’s boring wood and red velvet into an explosion of tinsel and fairy lights, the excessive Christmas décor almost hurt his eyes. He stared into the audience past Chaeryong’s skillful dancing on stage, despite her optimistic glances towards him, as he clutched sheet music in his hands. He had enlisted Ryujin’s help to ensure that you were sitting in the very middle of the front row, despite her unwillingness. He had to promise her that if he broke your heart again, she had a free pass at kicking him in a very private place. His attention was only broken from the way you hid a laugh as Ryujin whispered into your ear, by Jisung frantically running up to him, whispering as to not to disturb Chaeryong’s performance.

“Dude! There’s a rumor going around that this mystery chick you’re playing for is (Y/N)?” Chenle simply blinked at him.

“And?”

“Is it true?” 

“Yep.” Jisung threw his arms in the air incredulously, whispering as loud as their setting allowed him,

“What the hell is the matter with you! You have every single girl on campus wanting you and you want (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Chenle spun to stare out into the audience again, turning his back to Jisung. “Leave me alone, Jisung. You wouldn’t understand.” He whispered back, watching and clapping as Chaeryong took her bow, exiting at the other side of the stage.

“You’re right! I completely don’t understand! Have you flipped or something?” Chenle ignored him, breathing out slowly, trying to calm his nerves. 

“This is it.” He mumbled, more to himself than Jisung, ignoring his friend who made a last minute attempt to grab him before he walked on stage.

The entire audience sat with bated breath, you included as he sat down at the piano, almost excruciatingly slowly. You stared at your hands, trying not to look up at the stage because you knew that he was probably about to sing some love song to Chaeryong, since his feelings for you had obviously dissipated since that night, and then they would kiss on stage and everyone would be happy for them. You included. Probably. If you were feeling in a particularly positive mood.

“Um, so I’m sure you all know, that I’m dedicating this performance to someone. Which I am, but I’m not going to say who. Yet. They’ll know who they are.” His smooth voice echoed throughout the entire auditorium, officially piquing your interest as you lifted your head up to look at him. He had already moved to face the piano, his fingers - which were unusually shaking - hovered over the keys as he examined the sheet music in front of him, pressing down the first chord.

Your stomach dropped, the familiarity of the scalic motif he played with his right hand causing you to audibly gasp. You hadn’t heard this piece since you were four. You raised a shaking hand to your mouth, ignoring the way Ryujin was almost definitely staring at you with concern. He had kept the sheet music. You had thought all the time, it was in the back of some shop, never to be played again. But here he was, playing your mother’s music in front of the entire school with pride, his skilful fingers dancing from note to note as if it were as simple as breathing, the music enveloping you in a blanket of comfort.

His playing ended too quickly, finishing with a short section you didn’t recognize and ending on a perfect and harmonious cadence. The audience tentatively applauded, the majority - as in everyone but you and Ryujin - more confused than anything, until he walked to the end of the stage, directly in front of you.

“My favorite color is red.” He stated, looking down at you in your chair.

“Wha - What?”

 “I am the worst loser ever. Seriously, if you play a game with me and you win, I will find ways to blame you for making me lose.”

“Chenle, wha-” “You said you didn’t know me, right? I’m terrified of spiders. I love basketball more than football but I’m better at football. You couldn’t pay me to take science the second it isn’t mandatory anymore. I talk in my sleep. I’m crazy ticklish. I would literally die for Stephen Curry. I’ve been an idiotic dick, for lack of a better word, for the last ten years, and if you let me, I would love the chance to get to know you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face as you stared into those eyes - those once again dazzling eyes which bore into you, no evidence of corruption, the oh-so-familiar sensation of your heart warming to his words blooming in you once again, as if it had never left.

Your smile resonated within him and he questioned what the hell had he been doing the last ten years. How could anyone, ever want to run away from you?

“If you break my heart, Zhong Chenle, you have Ryujin to answer too.”

He chuckled, the sound of his laugh more musical than anything he could’ve produced on stage, and as you watched him, you came to the conclusion that Chenle was more than the sum of his parts, astronomically. You knew that Zhong Chenle was still walking around with your first kiss. But he wouldn’t be for long.

[milkiane]

slowburn

pairings: colin zabel x reader

warnings: mentions of food, mentions of alcohol consumption (wine), implication of introversion

word count: 1529

author’s note: thank you, @tatesimper and @evanmybeloved for helping me, ily. requested. idk if this was what you wanted but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

different, you thought, preposterous.

a new version of yourself arising from the carapace of who you used to be.

it was odd, looking at your orthodox self on the mucky reflection of the living room’s mirror. a striving endeavor to get out of your comfort zone.

“you cleaned up rather nicely tonight, what’s the occasion?” your mother asked, a bag of chips in hand in preparation for her usual movie reruns.

you stared back at her through the mirror, “uh, yeah. i’ve got a date with a friend of mine, he’s coming to pick me up in a few,”

she had a teasing grin on her face, “ooh, who’s the lucky man, then?”

a soft rap on the door interrupted the conversation you were having. you and your mum exchanged looks before the both of you scurried towards the door, attempting to get there before the other does.

once you had a hand on the knob, you sent her a warning look before opening the door.

and behold came the fine view of colin in casual clothes, much different from his professional attire as a detective, and whilst you were too busy ogling at each other, your mother, who was rather being too nosy for your liking, is trying to get a look at the man.

“i- wow,” colin breathed out, “you look lovely.”

“she does, doesn’t she?” your mother finally peeked through your shoulder and looked at colin from up to down in approval, “oh! what a handsome young man,”

your face flushed in diffidence, as did he but you were too busy shooting your mom a look to even notice. clearing your throat, you gave colin a sheepish smile, “are we ready to go?”

“oh, yeah!” he grinned, offering a hand of his to hold, “shall we?”

your mother giggled, making you scrunch your nose up. you took his hand and stepped out, before you could even close the door shut, colin looked back once more and waved to her, “it was nice meeting you, mrs. l/n!”

colin brought you to a nice park just by the eastside, surprising you by grabbing a picnic basket and a typical red and white patterned blanket.

“i’ve got just the perfect spot for us,” colin murmured, “just around here somewhere.”

you smiled, basking in the golden hour of the afternoon, auric hues enchanting your face in striking ways possible, walking side by side with colin as you clutched the blanket against your chest.

children were running around the grassy field, not a care in the world as they continued to go wherever their legs take them. friends and family scattered around, each one of them stuck in their own worlds.

colin took the opportunity to admire you, the casts of the sun had you glowing more than ever, having you locked in a state of celestiality. an angel amongst the crowds of delinquents and liars — if colin had ever seen one.

feeling the weight of his stare, you glanced back at the man. he looked away immediately, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks in embarrassment from getting caught.

you bit your lip to prevent the smile from growing wider, but colin caught it and let his own smile adore his lips. he beamed up as he finally found the spot, “there it is, c’mon!”

colin led you towards the huge sycamore tree that provided the right shade from the sun, but still a perfect view to watch it set from the burnished and tranquil collisions of a burst of red and yellow in the night’s calm.

setting down the blanket, you helped him unpack the remains of the basket. a bottle of wine, sandwiches, pastries, strawberries dipped in chocolate and other varieties of picnic-friendly food.

once everything was ready, you poured some wine for the both of you.

colin watched you with a small smile, your eyebrows furrowed and tongue poked out in concentration as he felt his adoration for you grow immensely.

you handed him a glass and furrowed your brows, “what?”

he shook his head and took a sip, “nothing, you just look gorgeous,”

letting out a small laugh, you turned to look at him, taking a moment to admire his features. there was a tiny scar on his right eyebrow, an aspect that proves that even the most perfect of people could have specks of imperfections, “you’re a sight for sore eyes yourself, colin,”

half a basket empty and a tipsy little detective later, the both of you were now sprawled across the blanket. eyes focused on the fluffy clouds that were fluttering across the blue sky.

you had tons of theories on how this date could possibly go, but cloud watching with a man who got tipsy from a couple glasses of wine hasn’t ever crossed your mind.

“look, colin, that looks like a heart,” you pointed out, your heads nearly bumping into each other.

“oh, yeah,” he grinned, his eyes turning to the next bundle of clouds. one particular flocculent cloud caught his attention, his eyes beaming up in fascination, “hey, look! that one looks like you.”

“where?” you asked, tilting your head as you tried to find where his eyes were trained.

with a little bit of liquid courage left, colin grabbed your hand and pointed it out. for a second, you completely forgot about the cloud he was currently tracing while holding your hand, your attention is entirely directed at him. you felt your cheeks heat up, and you were quite sure it wasn’t from the cold breeze that easttown brought.

his lips were moving, but you couldn’t focus on what he was talking about. there were crinkles at the side of colin’s eyes whenever he smiled or laughed, a freckle on the tip of his nose, and dimples that were worthy of charming anyone.

“did you see the resemblance, y/n?” colin grinned, turning his gaze away from the clouds to see you already looking at him.

you snapped out of your thoughts, chuckling nervously as he caught you staring, “oh- yeah, yeah, i did,”

colin marveled at you, the slow overcast of the sun creating an ambient filter that could give the greek goddesses a run for their money? lightning? magic? colin didn’t know, all he knew is that not a single person or mythical physique could ever be as ethereal as you.

you smiled softly, turning away to look back at the sky, “oh, colin, the sun is setting!”

you and colin sat up, eating the leftover strawberries as you leaned against the tree.

your hands were inches apart, and colin was the first to notice, but not before he smiled at your lighthearted state. he let his head hit the trunk, slowly moving his hand closer, lifting his pinkie a bit on top of yours.

too shy to make a move, he left it there. you looked at your grazing fingers, staring at him momentarily before looking back at the sun, slightly moving your hand to intertwine your pinky with his.

to any beholders, all they would see is a casual couple, getting lost in their own bubble of love.

but for the both of you, it was more of a start of a new beginning, a teenage love experienced by two grown adults. butterflies in your stomach, bashfulness that causes rosy cheeks, and discretion to keep your heart from getting broken.

colin parked his car and rushed out to your side to open your door. the sun was long gone, the shaded colors of reds and yellows now consumed by specks of twinkling stars that coated the dark sky.

he walked you towards the front door and you turned to him with a bashful smile and said, “well, this is me,”

he chuckled, “yeah,”

seemingly not ready to accept that your date is over, the both of you stood there silently.

“i really-”

“today was-”

you both shared a laugh, “you go first,”

“i really had fun today, colin,” you confessed, interlacing your fingers together as you balanced yourself back and forth on the heels of your feet.

“me, too, actually,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “and i’m hoping that we could go out again sometime?”

“of course,” you smiled. the curtains from your living room got drawn open, in came the sight of your mother watching with anticipation.

you groaned in embarrassment, “i-”

he only laughed softly, with your head still turned away from him, colin leaned in a bit to kiss your cheek, “well, i’ll be staying in touch with you for next time,”

but when you turned to look at him, he pecked your lips by mistake.

colin’s eyes widened, stuttering out an apology, but you cut him off by pulling him into a sweet kiss, your hands finding their way on his face and one running through his hair. kissing back almost immediately, colin slowly wrapped his arms around your waist respectfully.

pulling back a bit, he leaned his forehead against your own, both of you unable to open your eyes for a moment.

“finally!” your mom exclaimed, “now this is a slowburn better than the movies!”

“mom!”

add yourself to my taglist!

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colin zabel taglist: @xmaximoffic @raincoffeeandfandoms @divineruler @tatesrubbersuit

[wandawxdow]

Billy Russo A-Z Fluff

A = Attractive, what do they find attractive about the other?

Other than the obvious (your body) Billy loves your eyes. He often finds himself in a trance when looking into them and is mesmerised by the love and adoration apparent when you look at him.

B = Baby, do they want a family? why/why not?

Billy does want a family in the future, and he wants it with you. Though absolutely terrified to have children, some of his fear is removed with the knowledge that you’ll be by his side. He knows that he wants to be better than either of his parents ever were so that his child has a better childhood than he had.

C = Cuddle, how do they cuddle?

Billy wouldn't openly express his love for cuddling, but he does love it when the two of you get the time. He always finds it comforting and calming when he wakes up and falls asleep with you in his arms.

D = Dates, what are dates with them like?

With both of you leading busy lives, most dates are at your shared apartment. But whether it be takeout after work, a romantic home-cooked meal or a movie marathon, the both of you cherish the time. When both of you have free time, Billy makes an effort to take you out for a proper meal at whatever new restaurant has opened.

E = Everything, you are my ____ (e.g my life, my world…)

Billy believes that you are his light. He’s been fighting his entire life and can get swept up in the violence, but you serve as a reminder of the good.

F = Feelings, when did they know they were falling in love?

Love is a foreign concept in Billy’s life; it hasn't been something he’s experienced or felt as much as he should've. And so, with his lack of knowledge, Billy didn't realise he was falling in love with you until he was already well on his way.

G = Gentle, are they gentle? If so, how?

Billy Russo and gentle are two words that are not often associated with each other. Billy is violence, seriousness and bloody fists yet he allows you to see a softer side. He does little things that matter: making sure you’re covered by the comforter, ensuring he’s there when your sick or stressed, and other things that help your day-to-day activities.

H = Hand/Hold, how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

Billy doesn't hold hands when the two of you are at Anvil and surrounded by his employees. He doesn't mean to, but once in the building, he’s in work-mode with his serious, business persona. Other times he regularly holds your hand, particularly when the two of you are out in public. It's comforting that he has a grip on you so he can pull you to safety if something were to happen.

I = Impression, first impression/s

Billy first met you at a local bar. He’d been there to blow off some steam and you to drink away the bad day you’d had. He first saw and approached you when overhearing some man hitting on you despite your protests. Billy thought you looked beautiful in the red-illuminated lights with your curled hair and black jeans.

J = Joker, are they into pulling pranks?

Billy’s not big on pranks. Sure, the two of you will joke around, but you never plan elaborate pranks against each other. He’s done small things like hiding behind a door and scaring you as you walk past, but that's pretty much as far as it goes.

K = Kisses, how do they kiss?

Billy’s kisses are either slow and delicate or passionate and rough - there's no in-between. It all depends on his mood and the situation. If he's happy and content, then he peppers you with gentle kisses that express his love. If jealous, angry or filled with lust, his kisses are rough and passionate and often leads to other activities.

L = Little things, what little things do they love/notice?

Billy’s trained to notice small and often overlooked details about people, and so it's no surprise that he picks up on your quirks rather quickly. He noticed and loves how you prefer old movies when in a bad mood and how you hum under your breath when bored and happy.

M = Memory, their favorite moment together

Billy has many favourite memories with you, but if he were to choose one, it would be the morning after you first spent the night together. He woke to see your angelic face illuminated by the light shining through his bedroom windows. You'd both spent the morning in that bed together, admiring each other and talking.

N = Nickel, do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

It's no secret that Billy is rich, and though he works hard for his money, he has no qualms about spending as much as it takes on you just to see you smile. He’ll spoil you every day, gifting you things you do and don't need because he believes you deserve it all. To him, he wouldn't be a good partner if he couldn't provide for you and spoil you.

O = Orange, what color reminds them of their other half

You remind Billy of the colour white. It's pure, innocent and untainted, just like you. To some the colour may been cold but to him, it's fresh and complete.

P = Petnames, what petnames do they use?

Billy’s preferred pet names for you are ‘love’ and ‘darling’. He uses them most when the two of you are alone and being domestic: “what do you want for dinner, love?” and “darling, stay in bed a little longer.”

Q = Questions, what are the questions they’re always asking?

Billy almost always queries why you're with him. You're so perfect, innocent and bright and he's dark, broken and violent. To him, you're way out of his league, and he could never truly deserve you.

R = Romance, how romantic are they? Cliche or creative?

Billy is a ladies man, and as such, knows how to woo someone. On date nights and especially anniversaries and birthdays, he pulls out all the stops to make the night memorable. To be honest, there's nothing he wouldn't do for you. Billy prefers to express his emotions in a more unique way than the cliche red roses and teddy bears. But if that was the sort of thing you liked, you can be certain he’d do it.

S = Sad, how do they cheer themselves/each other up

If Billy’s in a bad mood, all he needs is you. You can't fix whatever started his mood, but being there helps him clear his head and find a solution. If you're in a bad mood or sad, he knows cuddles and night spent together will help.

T = Talking, what do they love to talk about?

Billy loves to talk about your day - not because it's overly interesting, but because he loves to see you so passionate and happy. He also loves the conversations you have when you both wake and the playful banter after a long day at work.

U = Understanding, how good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Billy knows you well, really well. He’s good at picking up on details and accommodating to them in a relationship. Billy is empathetic with your experiences, however, sometimes not immediately. Sometimes he gets angry at first, vowing to hurt whoever hurt you back. But after he's calmed, he recognises that you need comfort like he has many times before.

V = Value, How important is the relationship to them?

Billy hasn't had many people in his life who love and care for him without strings attached. So, when he finds someone who does, it's important to him. He believes your relationship is one of the best things that ever has and will happen in his life.

W = Why, reasons why they love each other

Billy loves your nature; your forgiving, gentle and peaceful nature. It's a contrast to his and one he adores. He loves how you stop to pet any dog you're allowed to, how your nose scrunches when you yawn and how you look wearing one of his shirts in the morning.

X = Xylophone What’s their song?

Billy loves the song ‘Tiny Dancer’ by Elton John because it reminds him of you. Like in the song, the sight of you dancing and singing is always stuck in his mind.

Y = Yearning, how do they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Billy misses you from the moment you have to leave. At first, he throws himself into his work to attempt to mask your absence. However, as time passes, he grows irritable and on-edge; taking his feelings on others. When you return, the two of you spent some time together to make up for the distance then things go back to normal.

Z = Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

You're one of the only people who genuinely loves Billy for who he is. Because of this, he would do whatever it takes to preserve your relationship. He would kill any enemy that threatened you with ease, ditch all material items for the chance at a life with you, and ensure he's worthy of your love.

[alldayangst]

a free world? (Harry Styles)

All my fics are PoC/LGBTQ+ friendly.  Trigger warning/warnings for divorce, kids witnessing unhealthy marriages/divorce. Inspired by Godspeed by Frank Ocean.

“This court thereby grants the plaintiff a divorce. Please wait ninety days for the divorce to be finalised.” The judge bangs their gavel. “This court is adjourned.”

Harry remembers these words like it was yesterday. They sounded nothing like the ‘with the power vested in me’ speech the minister gave five years ago, so he wondered why you were smiling. The whispers you exchange with your attorney were nowhere near as heartfelt as yours and his ‘I love you’s’ and ‘I do’s’ . He looked at you while you look at your lawyer like he just saved your life. Harry wonders if that was the way you truly felt all along. 

One thing that never failed to complicate things was the fact that you and Harry had children; children you adored unconditionally. You adopted Heidi and Eden when the love between you and Harry was just too strong not to share, and you remember the ear splitting sobs Harry screeched out for their sake when you decided separating was the best option for you both.

“This is all my fucking fault.” Harry sat on the steps like a child on punishment. You towered over him like a parent in despair. Where did it all go wrong? Snot, sweat and tears. The human body had a funny way of showing pain. “No, nothing’s your fault.” You remembered these words like it was yesterday. They sounded everything like the ‘I think we should end this’ speech you have him three days prior, so you knew exactly why he was crying. His red, runny nose and frantic head shaking was as close as you could get to reliving the undying heartache of yours and Harry’s ‘I fucking hate myself’s’ after arguments and ‘I’m not happy anymore’s’. He looked at you like you could save his life. You wondered if that was truly the way he felt all along. “Why bring a child into our home if I can’t provide the life I promised them?” Harry continued to weep, defeated, as you cradled his head in your arms, resting yours against his. 

No love lost.

“The kids know you love them, even if you don’t love me. Being happy and divorced aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Harry snorted and shook his head in your hands when you mentioned the word ‘divorce’, and by that, you could tell that he wasn’t ready to finish something that he started. But you were. “There will be mountains you won’t move, Harry.”

Fast forward to after you were granted the divorce, you’d been slow to move on; choosing to stay ‘two hearts, one home’ with Harry for the sake of your children. 

You didn't want to leave, you’d rather slow down. You wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of your children’s last idea of their parents together being animosity in bedroom corridors. 

“The table is prepared for you.” Harry noticed you all fidgety, finicky with your ring, pulling it off to the fingertip and rubbing it over your knuckle like this was all some sort of game.

You ate your food over a quiet table. You liked a quiet table now. It was better than the subtle shots and low blows you and Harry threw at each other seven months ago. Perhaps you didn’t know then what was to come.

“Y/N said they found a home not too far out of London.” Heidi dropped this bomb out of nowhere, then proceeded to eat her food, neglecting the fallout. Your children had taken to calling you by your first name because that’s what Harry had reduced you to, you were no longer ‘baby’, ‘honey’ or ‘lovie.’

You hear the clank of cutlery as Harry dropped his knife and fork and abandons his meal.

“Is this true?” he questions, eyes gawking in a line of sight straight at you. Once upon a time, you’d claim Harry could see right through you, into you - but after a few mean words and closed door rows, his vision doesn’t work as well.

“It’s true.” You breathe in uneasily.

“Can we talk in the bedroom?” Harry wiped his face on the cloth and you followed his lead on what you’re sure is to be an adventure upstairs.

“You’re moving? You’re moving without me?”

“Harry, I think you’re confused. You signed up for a life without me once you chose not to contest the divorce.”

“So, what, you wanted me to contest the divorce?” Now Harry is confused. His eyebrows are scrunched up together, and his face is in a kind of puzzle where if you didn’t know him, you’d probably think he was angry. And maybe you were onto something when you called yourselves ‘soulmates’, because Harry knew you know him better than anyone else - you’d had a power where you could see right through him, into him - and your 20/20 vision never failed you.

You’d hate to admit your ego was bruised when Harry didn’t contest the divorce. In a way, it made things peaceful - your house, your alimony and your kids didn't have to be split right in the middle, but nothing would compensate for yours and Harry’s broken bond. That little part of your heart that wanted Harry to contest the divorce didn’t do it out of a love for conflict, but to know you were something to fight for. Why didn’t Harry fight for you? You’d fought for much lesser things. You looked down at the rug beneath you, unable to come to terms with the shame and hurt that you felt you could spontaneously combust under. “I guess some strange part of my mind wanted you to fight for me, thought it would make me feel worthy, like you still loved me.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Harry lifts up your head and kisses the tears beginning to for under your eyes. “Because I do love you.”

You hum in satisfaction because you think this moment is over. Harry has other plans.

He kisses all over your face. Your nose. “I love you.” Your eyelids. “I love you.” You feel your cheeks begin to get wetter, Harry is crying too. Your chin. “I love you.” Your neck. He’s muffled as he smooches and speaks in intervals. “I didn’t contest because I thought this would make you happy. I just want you to be happy.” Maybe this is how Harry felt all along. Harry grabs a handful of your backside. “And one day this is going to be over. And I’m gonna wake up and we’ll laugh because it’s a bad dream.” Harry goes to pick you up, and that’s when you decide you’ve both gone far enough. Love isn’t about pushing hate in the other direction. “Harry, we have children downstairs, we have children downstairs, we have children downstairs.”

Two days later, you were sat next to Eden in the living room, unaware that Harry had chosen to dwell on your encounter the other night. It’d been a habit of his, he’d refused to relent on sweet, simple words, subtle signs, he’d never let things go. Harry and Heidi were washing dishes in the open kitchen adjacent to you with Harry sneakily stealing a glance from you every other second, resulting in some haphazardly washed pots and one broken plate.

The china dispersed itself across the ground. You and Eden looked up from your laptop while Harry and Heidi stared at the broken plate on the floor like it would mend itself that way. “Fuck, Daddy!” Heidi blurted out. Harry looked at her and then looked at you guiltily, hoping you didn’t think it was him that had taught your daughter that language. “Don’t say ‘fuck’, sweetheart.” It obviously was. “Can you help Daddy get the broom?” Heidi zoomed off in search for the broom while Harry thoughtlessly kicked shards of broken china around in attempt to pack the mess together. He wanted you to think he was a good Dad. You knew he was a good dad. But Harry was jonesing for your approval as if it would reverse the divorce papers in the mailman’s hands or stop you from separating your heart and your home.

“Y/N, where is Essex?” Eden looked at you curiously while Harry listened tentatively at the message of your hometown. “It’s where I come from and it’s where you and me are gonna live.” You tap Eden on the knee.

“I can’t find the broom.”

“Harry, you better go help her.” You said.

“Eden, go help your sister.” He tells your son.

Heidi said that you’d be living not too far from London but Harry never thought you’d end up back in Essex. You rarely mentioned your birthplace, and your distinct Essex accent got drowned in loud, screaming concert crowds and lost in London after years of residing with Harry. You’d worn your hometown on your sleeve only a handful of times. Harry vividly remembers Niall expressing doubt with you during drinking games to which you’d responded: “Please, I’m from Essex!”, and it made Harry ponder on whether you were going back there to drink the memory of him away or out of genuine fondness for the place. So Harry doesn’t think and walks over to you, faces inches apart and says, “You look down on where you came from, sometimes. But you have this place to call home. Always.” And you look into his green eyes that remind you so much of emeralds and pretty forests and remember that they are the only place that you’ll truly call home. You feel your heart racing and the clock ticking and his eyes boring into yours in search for an answer, and unsure what to say, you’re relieved for the first time in your life that your children are not around. “I need to go help them find the broom.”

Three months later, a paper comes through right on time. For you, not for Harry. But for Eden and for Heidi who sat in the back of your car ready to live in a town they’ve never been to and their parents never mentioned. 

Harry knew this day was about to come, because the letter that came for you a few days prior features your birth name, your full birth name. No Styles, no marriage title, no hint to the fact that you even knew Harry at all apart from the address. The address that was now his, and solely his. Harry starts to feel like a little kid again, and wants to cry on the steps and have you cradle him again even if it’s the last time you touch him. “I will always love you how I do, Harry. I vowed that. This love will keep us through the blinding of the eyes. I’ll love you to the day that I die.” And with that, Harry engulfs you. Because that paper that came right on time meant that your divorce was final and this wasn’t a sick dream he could shake himself from. “I’m wishing you godspeed, glory.” And that’s how you really felt all along. Harry holds your hand with his free one and you let him remove your ring from your finger. He’s crying now. It’s too late. You rub along his back and pat it, and maybe that’s his signal to let go, but he doesn’t. 

He can’t believe you’re going back. He can’t believe the town you disowned is your better option over him. You look back at it like it saved your life. “I’ll let go of my claim on you, it’s a free world.” But he hugs tighter.

Taglist: @swiftingday

Credit for the gif goes to: /hampsteadharry​

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[13uswntimagines]

Good Thing I wasn’t asking (Kelley O’Hara x Reader)

Request: Sequel to Touch Starved. Your Parents show up unexpectedly and Kelley might lose her cool. Just a little bit. 

Author’s Note: So there will probably be a part 3 in this series after i get through my request list! Let me know what you think and hit me up with questions or concerns. 

You were on a high. A massive high after your win over England in the she believes cup, a win that partially came from your very own hat trick. You still had one more game before you were inevitably crowned the She believes champions, but Kelley felt that your hard work had earned you a reward. 

She smiled as you cuddled into her side on the elevator. You were dressed in a pair of her #5 uswnt sweatpants and an old Stanford sweatshirt, a beaney placed firmly on your head. Part of your reward was that you got to go to dinner in daddy’s clothing, and Kelley thought you looked absolutely adorable swimming in her clothes. 

“You excited for dinner baby girl?” She asked as the elevator door dinged open, winking at you slightly. You nodded enthusiastically, tucking yourself under Kelley’s arm. You were sure that she had picked something you would like, something that probably resembled a cheeseburger or pizza. 

Kelley laughed at your excitement, guiding you towards the front door of the hotel, unable to take her eyes off of your blinding smile. She had an amazing night planned out for you, she was going to completely spoil her baby girl (Both in the bedroom and outside the bedroom). 

“Ah finally. We’ve been waiting for you for hours,” The deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, the smile slipping off of your face, your good mood disappearing in an instant. Your father heaved himself off of the lobby sofa with an agitated huff. He pulled his suit jacket straight, his nose scrunching slightly at your closeness to your favorite soccer player. 

“And do we really need to have another conversation about acceptable clothing Y/n,” Your mother’s shrill question had you swallowing back a cringe. You glanced down at yourself, you loved this outfit. It made you feel safe and comfy and wrapped you up in Kelley’s amazing scent. 

Kelley’s eyes snapped up to meet your parents’ gaze, taking in your father’s far too expensive suit and the gaudy pearls that adorned your mother’s neck. 

You straightened your back, and schooled your features, but did not untangle yourself from your girlfriend. 

“We didn’t know that you would be here. Why are you here?” You asked formally, blinking at them in shock. You were in Chicago for the tournament but didn’t think that it was important enough to warrant a visit. You had prayed and downplayed it enough to get them to stay as far away as you could get them. 

Your father’s face hardened as though he had been challenged, a thick line forming just above his brow. “Seeing as you were in town, we decided to introduce you to another worthy suitor,” He intoned, stepping to the side to reveal a boy who looked to be about your age. He was conveniently handsome you supposed, with dark hair and bright eyes, but you would never ever want him. He couldn’t hold a candle to your girl, and you were about a million percent sure that she could pull off his suit way better than he was. You suppressed your eye-roll, why couldn't your parents understand that you were happy with the woman of your dreams? You felt Kelley tense beside you, and you squeezed her waste comfortingly to reassure her. She had no competition here. 

“um, we’ve talked about this. I’m already in a happy relationship and I don’t need your assistance,” You said carefully but sternly, tilting your head to the taller woman in your arms. You didn’t want to start a fight, but you refused to let them walk all over your girlfriend. Your mother’s lip twitched in disdain, and your father's face hardened. 

“Ah, Kelley will you be joining us for dinner?” Your mother asked, sickly sweet. It was the tone she used when she was annoyed but didn’t want anyone to know. The one she used when someone she deemed to be beneath her was interrupting her plans. You opened your mouth to challenge the implication, but your very beautiful girlfriend spoke for you.

“Actually, we already had plans, but perhaps we could go out to eat another night,” You stated, smiling tightly at your parents. The last thing you wanted to do right now was deal with your parents, and if you could avoid it, you really wanted to. 

“Nonsense. We’re free and David is free. Y/n will go change into something presentable and we will be off,” Your father said dismissively with a wave of his hand. Kelley opened her mouth to protest but was again cut off by your soft squeeze of her side. 

She finally tore her eyes off of your uninvited parents to glance in your direction. Her eyebrows furrowed when she took in your defeated expression and the way you seemed to sink into yourself, a complete 180 to the exuberant mood you had been in mere moments before. Why did they think they had the right to just barge in and destroy your plans? Who gave them the right?

Your eyes were firmly locked in the ground as you nodded lightly. It was just easier to agree and avoid an argument. Kelley hated how you were always giving in to them to gain their approval. 

“I’ll be down in a few,” You mumbled sadly, kissing Kelley’s cheek and untangling yourself from the woman. She held onto your hand for a second longer, squeezing your fingers to reassure you that she wasn’t mad, and trying to get a good read on you. You smiled sadly at her, it seemed that your reward would have to wait. 

“No more than 5 minutes young lady,” Your father called after you, as you hurried towards the elevator. You didn’t want to know what he would do if he decided you were wasting his time. It was as though he didn’t even care he had unconvinced you and forced you to change your plans. He watched you go with irritation. What he was irritated with, Kelley didn’t know, but he always seemed to be wearing a frown around you.  

“And wear something presentable for David,” Your mother added with a huff, grumbling about your lack of fashion sense under her breath. Kelley rolled her eyes, you looked amazing in whatever you wore, whether it was a floor-length gown or one of her old t-shirts. You were gorgeous inside and out. She just wished they could see that. 

*****

“Look, I know this is uncomfortable and I just wanted to apologize. They didn’t tell me that she was in a committed relationship,” The suitor said quietly, sitting down next to Kelley on the hotel lobby couch. Your parents had commandeered the bar area, and she wanted to be as far away from them as she could be. 

Hence why she was sitting on this fucking couch, her knee bouncing, staring at the poor boy whose name she didn’t care enough to remember like he had grown three heads. 

“Excuse me?” She asked exasperatedly. The boy smiled lightly, his kind eyes meeting hers. He wanted to be here just about as much as she did. 

“They never said that the girl they wanted me to meet was in a relationship and I apologize that they are ignorant enough to try and break whatever you to have up,” He said. Kelley nodded at him, returning his smile. 

“Thank you, David,” she murmured, and he shook his head as if to say that the thanks weren’t needed. He had seen your smile and the way you leaned naturally into her touch. The way she had kept her arm around you as if she was grounding you. Whatever the two of you had was incredibly special, and he wasn’t about to try and break that up. 

“I’ll try and run as much interference as I can. She didn’t exactly look happy to see them,” David laughed, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably, and Kelley felt her lips tick up. He didn’t seem like a bad kid, just a poor soul that got mixed up in your family’s bullshit. 

“No, she wasn’t,” Kelley nodded, turning towards the elevator when it let out its telltale ding. Her breath left her, her train of thought screeching to a halt when you stepped out. A loud laugh sounded from beside her, but all her attention was on you. You looked fucking hot in that little black dress. Just so… delicious. 

You blushed under Kelley’s hungry gaze, well not really Kelly’s. Daddy’s hungry gaze was probably more accurate. 

“Hm, better than that monstrosity you were wearing before, but still not up to par. You really should consider going on that diet I sent you dear,” Your mother appraised you, the tension between you and Kelley evaporating into thin air. 

Kelley frowned. You were one of the top athletes in the world, and your abs could rival those of Hope Solos. You had one of the strictest diets of the team, and Kelley was always trying to get you to relax a little. 

“Ready to go?” You asked, sending your mother a tight smile. Kelley took that as her cue to grab your hand and link your arms, placing a very sweet kiss on your cheek. You leaned into her, allowing her strong frame to ground you, to support you, because God knew you needed it.  

“You look amazing as always my love,” She whispered in your ear, placing a very short kiss on the skin just below it. 

“You’ve already made us miss our reservation with your lackadaisical attitude. I will not let more frivolous behavior hinder us again” Your father glared at the two of you, his agitation clear. You cleared your throat, and Kelley straightened.

Complementing you was never a waist. She would take absolutely every opportunity she had to make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Spending that extra second to make you feel good was worth missing even the most important reservations in the world. 

*****

Kelley was going to die or kill someone before this meal was over. You hated overly fancy restaurants (like why the fuck would you waste 70$ on a plate of subpar food?), yet here you were munching on a much too expensive salad (Kelley knew how much you despised uncooked green vegetables and lettuce) while your father basically took a cheese grater to you accomplishments, ambitions and love life. So yes Kelley was not pretty sure that she wasn’t going to make it through this dinner. 

“I don’t know when you’re going to come to your senses and realize that your soccer ambitions don’t provide adequate financial support,” Your father said seriously, pointing his steak covered fork in your direction. 

“Yes, and David has a very secure position in our firm. He could more than easily provide you with a satisfactory lifestyle,” Your mother added, smiling at the boy who was looking increasingly uncomfortable at your parents' attempts to set you up with him. Kelley released a low huff, opening her mouth as if to respond. You placed your hand on Kelley’s knee, and her mouth clicked closed.

“I can assure you that our income is more than sufficient to accommodate our lifestyle,” You said, taking a bite of your very sucky salad. Between your world cup winnings and the numerous sponsorships you had acquired, you weren’t doing half bad for yourselves. You sure as hell didn’t need David’s income. 

Your father stiffened, glancing up from his meal to glare in your direction. 

“I think you had a slip of the tongue,” He growled, unhappy that you were embarrassing him in front of one of his employees. You sent him a confused glance, tilting your head to the side unsure of what he was talking about. 

“You indicated a shared lifestyle and income base dear,” Your mother smiled fakely at you, laughing at what you assumed was your empty-headedness. 

“I know. It wasn’t a mistake. Kelley and I are in love. We live together. We share a life together,” You ground out, setting your fork down, and leaning forward. You didn’t understand why they didn’t get that you were very serious about Kelley. 

“Love is for children,” Your father spat, taking a far too large bite of his disgustingly expensive steak. “And when this honeymoon phase runs out, you will be very sorry that you have spent so much time wallowing with this… woman. Sharing her bed like a common whore,” Your father finished. Your grip on Kelley’s leg tightened in an attempt to hold back the very obvious and angry thoughts trickling through your head. How could they be so close-minded? How could they not see that you were finally happy and respect that?

The silence at the table was defining and heavy, while you and Kelley sat in stunned silence. Your parents continued their meal, completely oblivious to the weight that settled on your half of the table. 

“Um, I think I’m going to go to the bathroom for a moment,” You mumbled, folding your napkin in a hurry and moving to stand from the table. You needed a second to compose yourself. A second to sort through your emotions so you could continue this dinner with a level head. So you could smother the overwhelming urge to punch your father in the face. 

“I’ll go with you,” Kelley said, also moving to stand, but you shook your head. You knew that Kelley- Daddy could make everything better. She would wrap you up in her arms, and you would be safe to break down, to give into the sea of emotions crashing over you. You didn’t want to do that. You needed to maintain control. 

“No, I just-... I’ll be back in a minute,” You stuttered, rushing off to the bathroom before the tears could fall. Kelley worriedly watched you go, a frown settling on her face. You rarely ever pushed her away like this. She turned back towards your parents, her lips a thin line. If you wouldn’t stick up for yourself, then she was going to do it for you, her protective instincts coming out in full force, and the very heavy ring settled in her pocket spurring her forward. 

“It’s sad, you know?” She hummed, taking a bite, and drawing your parents’ attention for the first time of the evening. Your father quirked an eyebrow at her as if daring her to continue. The last time they had met ended badly, and she was sure that this was headed in that direction. 

“That you are so blinded by your pride and arrogance that you can’t see Y/n’s accomplishments and the amazing life she had created for herself. Without your help,” Kelley said seriously, maintaining eye contact with your father. He sighed, finally setting down his fork and leaned back in his chair, schooling his features as if he was in a negotiation with a lawyer he didn’t like. 

“I suppose you’re talking about her agreement to enter into a fling type relationship with you?” Your mother scoffed, all pretenses of kindness evaporating. 

“No. Not at all,” Kelley shook her head, ignoring the accusation that she was only using you for sex. Your father’s eyebrow ticked up in interest, and she took that as her cue to continue. “Y/n is one of the best soccer players in the world. She was the Fifa player of the year, holds the record for most goals in both a season and a single game, as well as a world cup champion. She scored the winning goal against the Netherlands,” Kelley listed off, resisting the urge to yell at the people across from her like she wanted to. Your parents didn’t respond like normal humans. The only way to get through to them was to present it like a business deal. 

“Her career will be short-lived, much like your relationship. What happens when she gets injured, or a newer younger player comes in and shows the world what a subpar athlete she really is?” Your father questioned, unwilling to relinquish his stance that you needed a real job. Kelley sighed. She wasn’t one to follow traditions, but maybe telling your parents about her plans would get them off your back about marrying a man. 

“First, Y/n works her ass off to be the best, and that makes the difference. Secondly, I would stand by her no matter what her ability to play was, and thirdly, I don’t know what else we have to do to show you that our relationship is far from short term,” She ground out, beginning to lose her patience with the people across from her. David seemed to have shrunk as far as he could in his seat, wishing he was anywhere else. 

“This is just a stubborn phase for Y/n. You are just a phase,” Your mother snorted, a vindictive smile playing on her lips. Frankly, your girlfriend was tired of them minimizing your 4-year relationship, and she was about to blow their minds. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the velvet box that was the key to your futures. 

“This isn’t a phase, trust me. I’m going to make your daughter my wife,” Kelley said loudly, placing the box on the table. Your parents froze, their eyes glued to the small object. They had ruined her proposal plans, so she had a very hard time feeling sorry for ruining their dinner. 

Your mother slowly reached out and opened the box, a gasp leaving her lips when she saw the mesmerizing ring Kelley had chosen for you. Kelley grabbed the box and returned it to her pocket so you didn’t see it until she intended for you too. 

“I do not give you my consent or my blessing to marry my daughter,” Your father said, his voice shaking in what Kelley assumed was anger. She smirked at the man, standing from her seat. 

“Good thing I wasn’t asking,” She spat as she stalked off towards the bathroom to collect you. She wasn’t going to let you sit through another moment of this abysmal night. Hopefully, she could salvage the rest of it. She had a very good girl to reward if she remembered correctly.

[saebyeog-i]

soft | njm (m)

genre | office romance au / slight humor, smut lol

rating/warnings | stream of consciousness bs / alcohol consumption / semi public sex {oral, m receiving; mentions of breathplay} / slightly unedited whoops

word count | drabble! 2.1k because I don’t know how to shut up

pairing | IT Worker!Jaemin x reader

—

When you start your new job, you realize pretty quickly that Jaemin from IT wears sweaters all the time in the office. Even in the summer. Even when it’s 95 degrees outside, because he gets cold easily and they always blast the AC too much indoors.

He’s a very soft and unassuming character, and he’s the youngest person on his team by at least ten years, and during your first meeting when he’s getting your work station set up in your office he tells you he just likes that he gets paid to play around with computers all day and that’s why he keeps the job.

“Couldn’t you be a software engineer or something? Make far more money and not have to answer dumb computer questions all the time?” You ask offhandedly, and then realize you’ve insinuated that he’s paid poorly. You attempt to back pedal your statement, but he’s not the least bit offended.

He chuckles, eyes crinkling and he shakes his head. “I get paid plenty well for this job, and besides, I never have any tight deadlines or work overtime. I don’t exactly dream of extra and strenuous labor.”

He wears sweaters that are two sizes too big for him, made up of bright obnoxious colors and gaudy patterns that would usually make you fake vomit at seeing them on a real life human. But he makes them look charming, somehow. Grandpa sweaters, you call them, even to his face, with patterns that just make you gag. Never a sweater vest, mind you, only ever a full pull over knit sweater, with the occasional cardigan over a long sleeve turtleneck. Over time, you see a variety of patterns and colors, and you think he must have an endless supply of them.

You’re not bad with computers by any means, but you do like to bat your eyelashes and have other people do things for you when you can. You’re admittedly a little bit lazy, not stupid, and besides, he’s much faster at fixing any issues than you are, why waste time trying to figure it out yourself?

You think it’s cute, the way he smiles with his eyes and chuckles quietly whenever he comes to your office to fulfill a help desk ticket. You like the way he smiles at you and the way he’ll compliment your outfits, how soft and unassuming his words always are, and never cringe worthy like that older man in marketing who thinks he’s being nice but is in fact just being slightly creepy. When you tell your roommate about Jaemin from IT complimenting your new dress in the kitchen as you made your morning coffee, she asks if you have a thing for him because of how often you bring him up in your stories from work.

“Oh, no, definitely not— he’s soft, but a little too soft, you know? Need me a bit of a freak, someone who wouldn’t be opposed to like, I dunno, choking me if I said I was into that,” you sigh, trying to imagine the soft and pixie-like Jaemin from IT with his hands around your neck. It doesn’t compute. “Besides, I think he puts like, eight shots of espresso in his coffee, his cum probably tastes like battery acid,” you sigh into your yogurt as your roommate crinkles her nose one morning before you both depart for work. You move on from the brief idea, and think you’ll stick to just enjoying sweet and innocent Jaemin that wears oversizes sweaters from afar instead.

On anyone else, the fashion sense would be annoying.

But not on Jaemin.

He’s soft and squishy and kind of adorable with the way he scrunches up his nose when he laughs, and the endearing way he explains to the older company employees how to run the Microsoft Office automatic software updates to get the latest version of Excel and PowerPoint. He does his best to teach them how to do it on their own to give them a sense of accomplishment and understanding of the technology they rely on but seem to have no hope at operating beyond the basic level needed for their jobs (but still doing it for them anyways, with patience and a smile and never a complaint).

It’s an attractive quality, you have to admit, and if he wasn’t the walking embodiment of marshmallow fluff you’d think more about him. But he is, so you don’t, and instead sigh out loud as you watch him huff and blow the fluffy bangs out of his eyes as he’s crouched under your desk, re-running the wires for your office phone.

You’ve always had a bad habit of mumbling your thoughts out loud when you’re distracted, and sometimes he’ll catch you cursing out the equipment or your supervisors for not knowing the difference between something you’d deem as basic for your department or field. He finds it charming, thinks it makes you more candid and honest and it’s a different side of you than the one who bats her eyelashes and files help desk tickets when she could easily do something herself. You’re taken aback by this comment, because you didn’t count him for someone that would keep track of something like that, which you admit to him in slight disbelief.

“Oh believe me, I’m more observant than you think I am,” he chimes mysteriously as his fingers glide across your keyboard, entering his admin password to run another round of program installations and software upgrades.

You don’t think much of it when he’s the only person who fulfills your tickets for six months straight.

Not until the holiday party, anyways.

At the holiday party, it’s an open bar and everyone is dressed UP up. You expect to see Jaemin in another grandpa print sweater two sizes too big for him— that is, if the soft boy shows at all. Company holiday parties like this don’t scream ‘Jaemin from IT’ at you, given that from what your more seasoned coworkers have told you about years past, after tonight you can expect at least one person to end up suspended or fired for behavior; that and the Company President gives everyone an Uber code for a free ride home since they already know how absolutely wasted everyone plans on getting.

To your surprise, Jaemin from IT does in fact show up at the holiday party. You spot him as soon as he enters, about an hour into the party itself, and he slips into the crowd and makes his way to the bar. You were expecting a tacky Christmas sweater on him, but instead, he’s dressed in the exact opposite.

Instead, he’s got his hair styled up (a first, and you never realized how badly you wanted to see his forehead before) and instead of a gaudy array of colors and patterns, he’s wearing a nicely tailored suit in a rich wine color with a black button down underneath.

When he waves from across the room and approaches you just to be friendly and say hi, you’re definitely caught off guard enough that you don’t realize you’ve mumbled out “How is that fair? How can he look like THAT outside of a sweater and then not let me just suck his dick right here?”

Jaemin blinks for a moment, taken by surprise, when he realizes it’s that same candid habit of yours and you haven’t realized you’ve said it out loud. His mouth curls into a smile and he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and gets nice and close, close enough to flirtatiously whisper “Well if you insist, though I’m sure we could find somewhere a bit more... private.”

And then you’re so caught off guard by confident sexy suit wearing Jaemin you think he’s read your mind for until you realize what you said out loud. But he’s into the idea given the fact that he doesn’t run in fear from your words and fuck it, so are you, and he’s not just cute and squishy anymore he’s fucking hot in that suit and with his dark hair styled just so, so you feel flirty and courageous when you say “You know I think I like the suit over the grandpa sweaters, but I think I’d like the suit even better on the floor.”

After the way his mouth ticks upward in a smile, the movements are all a blur that you can’t quite separate out into discrete events: downing you drink, linking hands with him, scurrying off towards the single occupancy restroom furthest from the dance floor and bolting the lock so you can be sure as shit that when your lips crash against his and then your knees hit the floor there will be no interruptions.

“Funny,” you say, trailing kisses down his throat after a moment, “Never thought I’d see you as anything but soft.” The admittance and double entendre are entirely intentional and you know that he knows.

“Seems like now’s a good as time as any to pay back all those superfluous ticket requests,” he breaths out, and your lips curl into a grin as your fingers find their way to his belt and tug his dress pants down.

“If you insist,” you tease back his words from earlier, sinking to your knees all too happily.

You take him into your mouth easily, relishing in the groans and shaky exhales that comes from his perfect lips as his fingers thread through your hair and his grip tightens. A fire deep in your belly ignites at the noises, enjoying how easily you can make the man you thought so soft and unassuming fall apart at just a run of your tongue and a hollowing of your cheeks.

“Fucking shit don’t do that unless—”

He’s cut off by his own groan as you run your tongue along his slit once before taking him as afar back in your throat as you can manage, then he’s cumming in your mouth with a high pitched shaky whine.

When he’s finished, you make an obscene show of his cum in your mouth for him and curl your tongue back as you swallow, wiping away the excess saliva with the heel of your palm. “Pay back enough?” You ask surreptitiously as you rise back to your feet, dusting off the skirt of your cocktail dress.

Jaemin from IT digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you close to him, a growl deep in the back of his throat before his lips clash against yours, “All that and then some.”

His fingers link with yours after as he hurriedly drags you from the bathroom to the exit of the venue, waving haphazardly at his team members before launching the ride share app and tapping in the provided code for that free ride. “I meant it when I said your wardrobe is both flattering and professional,” he hums, “But out of respect for your sense of style, I’ll refrain from tearing any garment off of you and provide a hangar for it instead. Deal?”

The words are so forward and presumptuous. You can’t help but feel a little turned on by the action, however, and find yourself scoffing as you smile and stick a hand out for him to shake, “Deal.”

So even though you’d maybe been hoping to get a bit more free alcohol out of the company holiday party, you’re celebrating some much better company some thirty, forty minutes later, once you’re out of the car and your bare back is pressed against the locked front door of his apartment as Jaemin from IT fucks into you in a way that is the absolute opposite from soft, just as he’d promised. And when you’d moaned it out and asked, he happily agreed to (delicately, tenderly) lay his hand on your throat and apply pressure.

Your expensive cocktail dress rests on a hanger on the coat rack in his living room, just like he’d promised. You don’t put it back on until the following afternoon. And then again a year later, when you enter the company holiday party arm in arm with Jaemin from IT— Na Jaemin, you’d finally learned and committed to memory his last name after that first night, who was now your boyfriend.

“You know I didn’t take you for an outfit repeater,” he teases, this year arriving on time (at your behest) and wearing an all black suit save for the glittering of the jeweled pinstripes on his jacket.

You roll your eyes and tug him towards you by his neck tie. “Who’s fault is it that not enough people got to appreciate this dress last year, hm?”

He looks up in thought playfully for a moment before answering, “The sweaters?”

You press another kiss to his lips, this one a little less aggressively and a little bit softer (like you liked him, you’d come to find out) and reply, “Yeah, definitely the sweaters.”

—

author’s note | I originally wrote this in my dm’s to Clover half asleep at 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday and she told me she’d sue if I didn’t post it, so, here, lol have the expanded version that I wrote after chugging a glass of Reisling and a shot of Jameson at 10pm last night.

[toraashi]

‘tis the damn season (ft. oikawa tooru)

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: angst, fluff, implications of sex (there’s no sexual dialogue, the most explicit it gets is i use the word “whimper” once but theres not even graphic descriptions like i rate this PG-13), a couple swears

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: part two to this fic. Oikawa visits for the holidays after leaving for Argentina years ago. Catching up with his old flame brings back memories and reminds him of a love lost

Author’s Note: this is inspired by ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. It’s so good, please listen to it, it’ll add so much to the story because I reference it lots :) also i’m dedicating this to @hikariakaashi bc she agreed to be my valentine this year hehe 🥰 also @u-make-my-heart-tsumtsum​ thank you for hyping this up in the discord :))

“the road not taken looks real good now, and it always leads to you.”

"Hey, it's Tooru. I'm in town for the holidays. I'd like to see you."

The sound of his voice as the audio repeated left an unpleasant feeling in his chest. It burned like longing but twisted and lurched like nervosity, a sensation he pretended he wasn't familiar with. Oikawa wasn't a nervous person. He was a confident, suave man with the world in his hands, but for some reason, leaving a voicemail for someone this dear to him, who could see through him like glass, left a slight tremble in his fingers. 

The ding of his phone startled him, muscles growing taut. 

10:36am

It's been so long! I'd love to see you. Would 4 at that old coffee shop work?

received

Holy shit. 

It was almost embarrassing how his breath caught and his heart stuttered. It had been years, but yet here he was, hooked in with every word.

10:40am

I'll make it work 

sent

10:42am

That's a first ;) i'll see you then 

received 

The coffee shop hadn't changed much since he'd last been. The walls were still straining with the wooden roof's weight, the floor still comprised of creaky floorboards that screeched at each drag of a chair. Sparkling red and green lights decked the rafters, hanging low and casting unique shadows across the residents. The lobby was relatively empty, and he was seated quickly at a metal table near the window. The round teapoy rocked on uneven legs when he put his arms on it, but nostalgia made up for the shoddy furniture quality. The poignant smells and whispers of piano music wafted over him like a tender memory, leaving him with visions of your sunrise smile and golden touch breezing over his fingertips. Content was the next emotion that settled over him, but before he could melt too far into it, the bell on the door jingled. Chilly winter air rushed through his hair, waking him up from the dream that was the last few years and bringing him back home. In the blink of an eye, a familiar arm was pulling at the seat in front of him. It took his brain far too long to process the rosy cheeks and snow-dusted hair before him, but once he did, an infectious grin tugged at his lips.

"Long time, no see." Your gaze was cautious and guarded, and it burned holes in his euphoria. 

"Long time, no see," you repeated with a light smile, "How have you been?" 

"Ah, you know, just capturing the hearts of every person in Argentina, how are you?" That earned him a tinkling laugh, and his heart beamed at the reward. 

"I'm doing okay, just living my life." You greeted the waitress, plainly speaking your order, pausing to glance at him before ordering his old favorite. Honey hues glittered with unspoken fondness when you caught his gaze; he couldn't help it.

"You remembered my order. I feel special."

"Shut up. You are special, Mr. Pro Volleyball Player." You teased, inching your fingertips towards him on the table. It wasn't enough to be wanton, but he noticed, and he couldn't help but reciprocate. Eyes flicking to his hands and back up, that cautious glaze returned. "So, are you staying in town?" A warm hum in affirmation thrummed in his throat.

"I'm staying at my parents' house." 

"For how long?" The words seemed full, but he wasn't sure with what. 

"Just the weekend." He held your gaze like a taut string tugging you closer and closer. The air felt heavy, and his heart ached with a longing he'd suppressed for years. You opened your mouth to speak, but before anything came out, he interjected boldly. After all, what was he, if not bold? "I got your letter." Hues big and lips parted, a pink flush climbed your cheeks. If he was the same person he was years ago, he would've teased you, but now? With his heart on his sleeve and your eyes staring into his soul, how could he muster that courage up?

"And?" The single word was meek and tentative, fragile like the little bird of your unyielding love. 

"Well, for one, your attempt at scratching out the last line wasn't great." There was the teasing. He couldn't hold it back for long. 

"Shut up." You shied away from his crinkled eyes, pinker than you were when you stumbled in. God, he missed this.

"I won't." He drawled, closing the narrow distance between your fingertips and enveloping your hands like it didn't electrify his nerves. "And for the record, I missed you too." 

"Did you?" He rubbed a calloused finger across your knuckles, holding your eyes confidently. 

"How could I not miss that pretty face?" 

"Stop teasing." You pouted.

"I'm not." Pensively, you stared back at him, and he admired the furrow of your eyebrows, the puff of your pouted cheeks. Your smaller hands were quaking in his, and just as he considered laying off, you spoke a conglomeration of words that shuddered up his spine.

"Would you like to stay at mine for the night? We can catch up more? I don't want to leave you just yet." A genuine smile simmered up his lips, and he linked his fingers between yours.

"You know I can't say no to you." 

"Didn't seem like it when you left." The magic in his chest faltered at the blow, but the regret was evident in your expression. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I know it was about more than me." he hummed, the affectionate graze of his thumb against your knuckles resuming. 

The conversation felt much too short, every move you made clenching his heart, brimming it with innocent nostalgia and longing. Before long, you were tugging him out the door, leading him to your apartment in a movie-worthy montage. The silver moonlight caught your hair like silk, your gossamer grip on his wrist balmy and familiar. 

"My, you're eager." When you glanced back, your eyes sparkled like the sequins on your prom getup from so many years ago. 

"Is it stupid that I missed you so much?" The way his heart caught in his throat was almost painful. Chest aching, he concluded that this was what happiness felt like, a hummingbird flutter he'd never find in the falsities of fame. You, who knew him like the muddy road to your secret high-school hangout spot, looked ethereal beneath the moon's knowing smile. As you approached the door, he couldn't help but dip his toes into the subdued desire he'd grown to ignore. 

Your chest pressing into his, your back to the door, his fingertips firm against your waist, and finally, the brush of your reposeful kiss against his needy lips, it left him with frantic desperation clawing up his body. You broke away with a similar gleam tucked into your gaze like a secret just for him. Swinging the door open and fumbling with your jacket, you found your place in his arms again, a mutual craving for a love that was cut so short.

He did many things that night he'd only remembered in dreams, his frame pressing your familiar figure into the bed, lips tracing every line of your silhouette, the dips and curves in your skin, sealing each forgotten memory in an envelope for him to read later. Just for tonight, he'd bask in your entirety, the glow of your smile, the whimpers that spilled past your pretty lips, everything that was purely you. When everything was done and gone, the flaxen glow of your lamplight flickering out, you pulled him into your arms, twirling the chocolate strands of his hair, breathing in his adoration, your own lulling him into a long-awaited, dream-filled slumber. He dreamed of his past self getting lost in the empty arms of another, the void carved out by your existence impossible to fill. He dreamed of the life he'd lead if he'd remained in your embrace, waking up to you every morning instead of cold sheets. 

He awoke with the December sun, your bare skin blinding in the morning's glow. Glancing at the red numbers on your nightstand, he stretched his arms. It was almost ten, but the warmth of your body reeled him back in like a fishing pole, his mouth splattering kisses across your visage like freckles. Swelling with delight, he collected you into his arms, setter's fingers revisiting the map he drew on your body like the ink was still drying, greeting you with a grin as your eyes lolled open. 

"Morning, babe." Oikawa scanned the love-struck expression painting your features, the scrunch of your nose, the quirk of your lips; he inhaled it like it was his last breath, coming to terms with the time and its draining sand. Raising a lone finger, he followed the shape of your jawline, locking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Sleep well?" You neglected to respond, searching his gaze. 

"If this is the last time I ever see you, I want you to know that I've always loved you, and I won't ask you to stay." The last grain of sand in the hourglass tumbled through the glass gap, the alarm clock on your nightstand beeping abruptly, stealing Oikawa's breath. 

And as he looked upon your effervescent figure, shattering his own battered heart at the realization, Oikawa decided the road not taken never looked more appealing than now.